December 15 – “Candy Cane Box Wars”

We had some overnight guests the other night.  Four of them in fact.  Kel and Christina had a Christmas party at church, so their three boys were here.  Nathan and April had a party as well (It was the fire department union party.  I actually made an appearance at that one as well, dressed as Santa, just for fun.  They were pretty nice about it.  I think it took them by surprise.  The worst thing I got called was Skinny Santa.  Can’t complain too much about that one, I guess), so Cailyn joined them for an almost-all-the-cousins sleepover.  We did miss Zak and Caleb and Luke, but they’ll be here in a few weeks, so maybe we can make up for lost time then.

So Jachin, Micah and Josiah were to arrive first.  And from the grandmother perspective, there was a lot of work to get done.  You know, the usual cleaning up so they can mess it up plan.  They got here a little earlier than expected, though.  So combine three active boys with a Nana who has been cooped up for weeks and weeks with a few chores that didn’t quite get done, and what do you get?  Well, I guess that could go a few different ways.  She could be cranky and determined to get done at all costs.  She could be demanding and insist that they stay out of her way and quiet.  Neither of those is exactly what happened.  No.  In this house, the time was ripe for … Candy Cane Box Wars.

I had quite a few boxes of candy canes that I purchased for the Bethlehem Street Market at Seaside.  They had been emptied out, and I was in the process of taping a contact card onto each one.  So combine empty boxes destined for the trash bin, with a stir-crazy Nana, with three wild and crazy little boys, and the temptation was just too great.  Said Nana started it, I think.  A gentle toss here.  A giggle there.  Here a throw. There a connect.  Everywhere a box flying.  For the next hour or so I was witness to a spectacle like none you could imagine.  It involved pillow forts that never really worked all that well.  Out of control chases around and around the house.  Evil, maniacal laughter (that would be Chris).  Grandsons plotting the overthrow of the stalking Grandmother, laden with armfuls of boxes.  At one point Josiah, the three-year-old, couldn’t get his hands on the boxes fast enough.  He felt at risk.  So he improvised.  I heard his declaration and breathed a sigh of relief that I was not involved in that part of the battle: “I got stinky trash.”  Ammunition other than boxes made its way into the fray often enough that Chris declared a battleground rule: “Boxes only.  No throwing toys.”  Ouch.  That must have hurt.  Of course she saw the rule turned against her when she captured Josiah and had him trapped in a tickle frenzy.  Punctuating his peals of laughter came this appeal: “But Nana.  You said boxes only.  No tickling.”  Got ya.  Josiah was also the source of two other statements that caught my attention.  At one point his brothers declared him dead from a particularly vicious box attack.  Undaunted, he declared, “I still have two more lifes left.”  Video game generation, right?  And once he even proclaimed, “I’m God.  I can come back to life.”  Hey, at least he got the theology right this time.  Only God can do that. 

John 11:25-26 says, “Jesus said to her, ‘I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?’”

Father, thank you for the resurrection.  Only you can do that.  Amen.