February 27 – “Listening from the other room”

I went to the inaugural session of the Beth Moore Bible study at Seaside yesterday morning.  It will be our weekday study for the next ten weeks, so we located it at the worship center so we could use the projector and advertise it on the marquee.  Seems to have worked as far as marketing goes.  There were 17 people there, with both men and women.  Not a bad start.  Of course the study itself was good.  Jesus, the One and Only. 

Cailyn was with us for the day at the house.  My favorite Cailyn sound bite came as Chris was fixing dinner.  Cailyn was of course helping her as much as possible.  I was trying to get further along with the sermon and with one of the other classes I teach on Sundays.  Still have to get the Life Group study done for Thursday as well.  So while I was working I heard a faint … well, not so faint … OK, a really loud cry from the kitchen, “DadDad, dinner is ready.”  Sounded good to me, so I responded faintly with an OK.  Obviously it wasn’t loud enough, because almost immediately the dinner cry came again, this time even louder.  And this time it was followed by a response from Chris.  “Cailyn, no it isn’t.  Dinner is not ready yet.  You are not being honest.”  The whole being honest thing is one that Chris has been working on whenever Cailyn is here.  I guess we homeschooled for so long that teaching character traits along with the ABC’s is second nature around here.  Cailyn wasn’t quite so accepting of the mild rebuke, however.  She is never one to take any kind of reprimand with the opportunity to tell her side of the story.  So the next words I heard from Cailyn were these, in her best teacher-like voice:  “Nani, I am being honest.  I’m telling DadDad.  Now, Nani, just calm down.” 

I have to say, that struck me as the funniest thing I have heard all week.  I started laughing, and immediately realized that I was perhaps encroaching on a teachable moment.  So I did what I learned to do time after time during similar such teachable moments when our boys were growing up.  I covered my mouth with both of my hands and did everything I could to keep the laughter in silent mode.  Not an easy task, I must say.  My body was heaving back and forth, and tears were coming to my eyes when Chris made her way into the office and gave me my well-earned smack across the shoulder.  And still I laughed, though now the tears began leaking from my eyes.  She then had the audacity to describe Cailyn’s physical demeanor during said response.  Cailyn directed an outstretched arm in Chris’ direction, index finger pointed to the sky for “Nani, I am being honest.”  Then came the palm in the ever popular “speak to the hand” stance.  And finally both hands were out with palms to the ground as if physically pushing Chris’s concerns to the floor, urging her to settle down … be at peace.  By the time Chris finished her description (and a few more well-placed “you better be quiet” smacks), I was beyond hope.  So was she.  We both ended up laughing hysterically … quietly.  Yes, it is possible.  See, some things are just funny.  I was glad Chris finally got a taste of the kind of enjoyment I had over the years listening from the other room while she taught the boys. 

Psalms 126:2-3 says, “Our mouths were filled with laughter, our tongues with songs of joy.  Then it was said among the nations, "The Lord has done great things for them."  The Lord has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy.”

Father, thank you for the laughter yesterday.  It is always so full of healing.  I could sure use a few more days of that.  Amen.