My friend Nathan is a character. During his first real “out in the world” experience (otherwise known as kindergarten), he became enamored of one little girl, a girl we’ll call Taylor Butler, because that’s her name.
Every afternoon, when he made the pilgrimage back home and sat down to a snack and a debriefing with Mom and/or Dad, Nathan would share Taylorbutler stories. And that’s how he said her name–all smashed together like it was one unseparatable word: “Taylorbutler.” Chris (my husband’s assistant pastor) and Cora learned all kinds of things about Taylorbutler–the colors she liked to wear most often, the fascinating way she held her crayons, which snack she’d eat first out of her lunchbox … Nathan saw and recorded it all.
One afternoon, Nathan brought home a letter of concern. It seemed the teacher had caught him poking Taylorbutler. Cora decided that poking matters fell under “father duties,” so she handed the letter to Chris.
“Nathan,” Chris said, “did you poke Taylorbutler?”
Nathan nodded.
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to see if she was squishy.”
An immediate question rose in Chris’ mind. “Uh … exactly where did you touch her to find this out?”
Nathan poked his dad right in the side, just below his rib cage. “Here, Dad.”
Chris was, of course, relieved. “And … was she squishy there?”
Nathan grinned and nodded slowly. “Oh, yeah.”
I just love that kid. He has a quirky way of viewing things, and all these little idiosyncracies that keep me laughing. I especially like the way he phrases things.
Whenever he wants to make sure Cora doesn’t forget something, say, a promised trip to MacDonalds or some other privilege, Nathan will instruct her: “Write that up, Mom,” and she does.
Chris and Cora lead one of our church’s home fellowship groups, which they host every other Sunday night. One Sunday afternoon, Nathan wondered if perhaps this was the night all his friends came over for home fellowship.
“Hey, Dad–is tonight home fellyshellygloop?”
What would we do without kids? They give us some of our best insights, and certainly some of our most colorful words. “Fellyshellygloop” is one of my all-time favorites.
It’s important, you know. We’re meant to fellowship together. We were created with fellowship-needs. Somehow, some of us have forgotten that. Not kids, though. Kids have an instinct that drives them to herd together and compare their owies and share their Skittles. They’re always up for a get-together. Always. Have you ever known a child to say, “Nah. I’m not in a socializing mood?” Of course you haven’t. My daughter once asked, while shivering despite her 103 degree temperature, “If I stop shaking, can Jaimey come over?”
We’ve much to learn from these short people. Herd together with someone this weekend–or lots of someones. Go to church! It’s good for your heart to be among people who share your beliefs, people you can show your owies to. Find another couple to have lunch with afterwards. We’ll be at Scott and Diana’s Sunday afternoon, if you’re looking for us.
This weekend, find yourself some good fellyshellygloop. You won’t be sorry.
Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another-and all the more as you see the Day approaching.
~Heb 10:25 (NIV)
©2008, Shannon Woodward