A few housekeeping items before the post:
- My Lenten Tree post was mentioned on another blog! How exciting. Please take a look at “A Time to Take Root” over at Christian Ed. at Holy Family. The post title is hyperlinked (This new font doesn’t seem to show the links very well.). The blog has a number of great resources for Lent.
- I loved the feedback I received on Monday’s post. I heard from a number of you on Facebook, here on the blog, and even in person. Thanks! I feel I need to clarify a few of things. First, I’m not running off to Uganda or some other far off place! Not any time soon. My home is my mission field. I remind myself of that frequently, and I take joy in it. I’ve been given this time and this place to use my skills and my energy to glorify God here–right where I am planted. I mean to focus on study, prayer, and advocacy in quiet ways–not some dramatic mission! Secondly, I did write a note of encouragement to the mom that I mentioned. Monday’s post kind of sounds like I stopped myself from encouraging her when I actually did write the message. Finally, whether my post said it or not, I do believe that God gives us different seasons for different actions. I, in no way, meant to imply that a person who doesn’t serve outside of the home or the mom who feels too overwhelmed to put on matching socks let alone head a committee or fly to Africa is wrong or bad or missing God’s call. Nope. Not at all. We are each given different, worthy tasks, and I feel called to greater study and prayer at this time. Maybe that seems selfish. After all, it’s not very outwardly focused. I just know that I’ve been ignoring it for far too long.
Okay! On with the post…
I bought a little bag of bouncy balls at Target. I am sharing this fact with you at great risk of public embarrassment. My hubby really made fun of me–in the kindest of ways, of course.
When I saw this little bag with its cheerful colors peeking through the mesh, I was hit by a wave of happy nostalgia. I grabbed them immediately and tossed them in the cart, hoping the kids wouldn’t notice.
“What’s that,” F immediately asked. So much for my stealthy moves.
“They’re for me,” I replied with an unintended territorial edge.
Not giving up, he asked, “Well, what are they?”
“Just some bouncy balls,” I said.
But they aren’t just some bouncy balls. They are a fun, sweet part of my childhood–a part that I hadn’t thought about in a long time. I guess you could say that my sister and I had imagination to spare. We collected rubber balls and played with them like someone might care for pet rocks. We actually gave them names. I kept mine in a coffee can under my bed. I know how silly this sounds, but it is a warm memory for me (and probably my sister if she isn’t ready to kill me for posting this! ). I’ve come across bouncy balls many times in the last decade, but I think I had an immediate emotional reaction to the bouncy ball sighting at Target because these were THEE balls. The world is full of little rubber balls, but these ones are sort of translucent. Their color is half-half like the “fancy” Easter eggs we try to dye each year. They have a slightly rough exterior unlike glossy jacks balls. They are smaller than most super balls, and they feel great in my hand. Rolling them around in my palm, even making a mental note of their particular smell and weight, I feel like my old self. Making my way to the check-out line, I smiled inside and out–even as I missed my sister almost too much to bear.