I hear airplane, sounding more like air pain, from my grandsons every time we’re outside together. It doesn’t matter if they’re excavating the mulch bed or playing baseball, even the little boys sound off, eyes heavenward, searching for the flash of silver or the trail of jet exhaust. Thomas, who is four, has learned to distinguish between the sounds of a small aircraft and a jet and knows immediately where to look. His mom took him and his brother to a small local air museum and they sat inside decommissioned airplanes, busily depressing sonar switches once meant to locate submarines. They watched as small planes taxied in for a landing and others took off. I’ve seen Thomas’s imagination expand since this experience.
I spent the day before thanksgiving with my daughter and her boys in their home. The weather turned off cold this week so we waited until after lunch to bundle up and head outside for a bit. We took a walk and Thomas rode his bike while I pushed Timothy on his red Radio Flyer trike. Then we climbed the hill in their backyard to play baseball on the level landing at the fence line. I stood in the middle, alternately pitching to both boys. Timothy stopped to wave at every passerby. Thomas swung a few times before deciding he would like to pitch and I should take a turn at bat. I learned an important lesson that afternoon. Rubber soled boots do not work well in reverse. Also fifty-five sometimes feels older than it should. I reached a little beyond my tipping point with the bat, lost my footing and sat down hard. Instead of stopping me, the hill behind me sent me sprawling in a near back flip.
Thankfully a Lowe’s delivery truck’s back up beeper across the street caught the boys’ attention and I had a moment to brush myself off and regain my feet. The cold-induced numbness kept me from feeling the aches until later. While driving the two hours home, the crash caught up with me. By the time I stepped out into the garage, my head and my hips and legs ached. A warm shower and some ibuprofen aided in a good night’s sleep. I still feel a little foolish thinking about it.
That lingering feeling has me wondering how memorable are the daily interactions I share with others? What feelings linger after my departure? If any of my daughter’s neighbors witnessed my feet flying over my head in her backyard, they may have gotten a good laugh, but no one came to see if this old lady was injured. Do I take notice of the sort of facial expressions I evoke? Is anyone mulling over words I spoke or am I dismissed by the next ping of the cellphone? Do any of my words come to mind in opportune moments? Do they inspire courage or despair?
As I’m asking myself these questions, I am picturing others who have inspired me, those who leave in their wake a pleasant satisfaction and even joy. Maybe they challenge my thinking but as my dad always phrased it, they are skilled at stepping on my toes without taking the shine off my shoes.
Callie literally stepped on my toes weekly for two years but I knew she loved me. It was a game we played when I subbed in her Sunday school class. I still think about it with a smile because her greeting kept me from taking myself too seriously and I believe the entire class benefited. We studied God’s Word together and I like to think we had fun, Callie and I and a handful of others through her high school years. I don’t see her as often now but last time I checked, she still loves me. She’s grown now and she doesn’t step on my toes anymore. We text, we’ve been grocery shopping together, and I pray for her and her family, all because of third grade Sunday school.
I am making impressions all day every day. So are you. Some I am keenly aware of but I miss others entirely. The Bible relates these impressions to an aroma or fragrance. To some I am the stench of death. I pray that to more I am the fragrance of life in Christ.
I’m always amazed by the power of a smell to transport me across years to a moment in time. Buttery popcorn. My first date with my husband to a late movie after his work shift ended. Elephant ears and fresh hay. Walking around the state fairgrounds, tickets in hand to ride rides. Sunscreen. Campfires with roasted marshmallows. Boiled peanuts. Beach trips growing up. French fries with vinegar served in paper cups. Friday night football games with the marching band. Surrendered to God, all of my life is a pleasing aroma to God in Christ. I spread the knowledge of Him wherever we go.
“But thanks be to God, who in Christ always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads the fragrance of the knowledge of him everywhere.
For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing, to one a fragrance from death to death, to the other a fragrance from life to life.
Who is sufficient for these things?
For we are not, like so many, peddlers of God’s word, but as men of sincerity, as commissioned by God, in the sight of God we speak in Christ.”
2 Corinthians 2:14-17 ESV
https://bible.com/bible/59/2co.2.14-17.ESV
Who would listen to me or take the time to read my words if they were crass or not relatable. I suppose there are those who make a good living from crassness. The world calls it comedy but though we are in the world, we who are in Christ are not of the world. (John 15:19, 17:14-18) We are called to be different. We are to reflect Christ. So we…
“Don’t use foul or abusive language.
Let everything you say be good and helpful, so that your words will be an encouragement to those who hear them.”
Ephesians 4:29 NLT
https://bible.com/bible/116/eph.4.29.NLT
In The Message, Eugene Petersen sums this verse up beautifully by saying, “Each word is a gift.” As we enter the Christmas season, gifting often consumes our thoughts. The only perfect gift was God’s in Christ. (John 3:16) While I was dead in my sin, Jesus died for me. He rose again, victorious over sin and death, long before I was born but in Him, I have forgiveness and reconciliation. My greatest need was met before I was even aware of it. I am a child of God. I am crucified with Him and raised to walk in newness of life. If you are His, we are heirs together with Him.
Listen. You hear the clamor. It’s rarely ever quiet. Even in the stillness of our wooded parcel, the sound of engines revving on the nearby highway reaches me. Personalities clash. Political parties parry. Causes cry for support. The noise is constant. I don’t want to talk louder. I want to share a smile that lingers. I want to send the text or make the call that brightens someone’s path. I want to be the one to extend a hand to help you up when you’re stretched a little beyond your tipping point and find yourself looking at the sky, praying nobody saw you fall.
Who is sufficient for these things?
“But in all these things we overwhelmingly conquer through Him who loved us.”
Romans 8:37 NASB1995
A Fitting Reply 