Saturdays of Childhood

SATURDAYS of CHILDHOOD:

Four Square, the "civilized" ball game for skilled children much too short to play basketball.
I remember this game well. It was my precursor to tennis which I gave up for badminton. Ah yes,
badminton. I call it "fairy tennis". The ball has feathers, it never touches the earth, and you sprint
and reach like you are casting magic around you. And little did I know that when I played, it was
toning my legs,butt,thighs and giving me lungs worthy of a pearl diver.

Then my homing device, also called my stomach, would kick in when the smells of spaghetti and
meatballs or fried chicken and mashed potatoes would come wafting out the kitchen exhaust fan
and up the street to the corner where I played. A stern-faced, fat lady was
placing plates around a farm table in a tiny kitchen. My place was against the wall on a bench with
these other kids who sometimes bumped into me during the day. A stick of butter was in the center
of the table as always, for butter topped everything, even spaghetti. I would conference with these
strange other kids. We would work out our hectic schedules and promise to see each other after
we finished our individual and most earnest endeavors. Then after I conquered the world and sucked
up enough fresh air to fill all the tires in the Tri-State area, I felt homesickness kick in. Usually
around dinner time. I would swing back into my dirt driveway and park my bike like a prized
mustang in the corner. Wiping my feet on the porch mat I'd take one last look around at the
outside world. Yes, I kicked some Saturday butt and now I could rest.

Once in my place of honor against the wall on my bench and directly under the light switch,
and this was important because it often got dark at this time and I got to flip the hallowed switch,
I noticed that some funny looking kids also found their way to the table too. One was chewing
with her mouth open and one was eyeing me suspiciously while hiding behind the fat lady with the stern face.
A third one always seemed to have to get up and use the bathroom, thereby making
a game of musical chairs necessary. This threw off the mealtime concert of chewing, and
swallowing completely. He always was a little button-pusher.

So there we were, on Saturday. The day meant for personal discovery and family conferencing.
How good it all was. I think of that slice of heaven and wonder if the house God has prepared for
me will look anything like it. I wonder if my relatives will come and gather there and will I sit
snuggly on a bench, shoulder to shoulder with my siblings. Since heaven has no darkness, I
suppose I won't get to throw the light switch. Maybe the switch would set off sparklers or put
a seat belt on my brother instead. I could finally eat my pile of mashed potatoes uninterrupted
for once. But are there meatballs in Heaven? What will my bike look like? These are the questions
people, these are the questions. Questions that can only be answered while eating sugary cereal
in whole milk, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of a rabbit-eared TV on a Saturday morning.


author's notes:
The joys of childhood will pale in comparison to the joys of Heaven. I am looking forward to riding
the most awesome bike in history, flying of course, and eating a pile of miraculous potatoes that
never get cold. There's no sibling rivalry in Heaven so I am looking forward to many happy meals.
Jesus has prepared a place for all of His followers in Heaven. Every day in Heaven
will be better than the best childhood Saturday I ever had on Earth.

John 14:12-In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so,
I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you.