Another Thursday night, another weekend when I'm not in town; this week-end I'm having a cousins' retreat with some of my female cousins. We're out at a resort on the very northern corner of Puget Sound, a mere 30 minutes from my house so I'm (not surprisingly) the first one here, trying to wait up until the crew gets in after midnight.
It's also, of course, another Random Journal Day Link up--and let me tell you, there are some pretty amazing people finding treasures from recent and long-forgotten journals. You should check them out. SERIOUSLY!
This weekend away from home, I actually DID remember to randomly grab a journal, and even flipped it open to a page before leaving the house. Did a bit of an "Awww..." when I read the first sentence, so marked the spot. You'll see why.
March 20, 1996
A little boy turns 9. He's waited for four years for the pocket knife his daddy bought for him and placed in a handkerchief drawer. Periodically, the growing child has reverently peered into the drawer, 'checking' the knife, or hinted that 'it sure would be nice to use that knife for this...' but mostly he's just waited. Hope deferred. Living by faith, trusting that his daddy would give it to him when he promised. In all truth, I'd forgotten, but he hasn't. Finally, he's nine years old today, big enough by a dad's arbitrary standard (set when it seemed such a long ways off he didn't quite imagine he would ever get there). Big enough to handle and not hurt with a small pocket knife of his own. How many doors one must walk through to adulthood. A marker of progress: a boy turns nine and thinks all the world's been made over just for the newness of his age. Just because he can hold a little knife and sharpen sticks beside his daddy.
And I'm thinking again of the 'putting on decking' idea I've been wrestling with--in relation to this obedience of (J's) waiting. Noah heard God, and all that building came down to year after year after year of single-handedly building a giant boat by himself. Putting on decking day after day--he waited. He worked but he also waited. It seemed crazy to the world then. And our own continued obedience in whatever our decking is can look equally crazy to the world. But still he did it. Still we do it. Waiting for the time to be right. Waiting for the water to come. Or waiting for the right year (to FINALLY be nine years old!). How do we continue to wait and obey, and believe that what He has said He will do or give or called us to will actually come to be?
"He who calls us is faithful..." That's the glimpse in the handkerchief drawer, or the reason we keep pounding in nails. J knew his dad would do what he said he would. Noah knew God would do what He said he would.
I love that I can learn from my son as well as from the scripture about how to live by faith.