Climbing Ant Hills

Climbing Ant Hills

I love being a dad. When I got home today I found my sweet little family outside in the backyard playing in the sandbox. Well, they weren’t all in the sandbox. Tasha was reading and watching Rainy play in the sandbox. But it would have been funny to see Tasha in the sandbox, seeing as it is barely big enough for Areyna. Anyway, once Rainy had had her fill of sand (literally, because she enjoys eating it) we proceeded to play the hill game. To bring you into our circle, the hill game is simply a game where Areyna climbs to the top of the hill in our backyard (although it resembles more of an anthill on steroids) and then proceeds to run down it with arms flailing and mouth open into the arms of her waiting dad at the bottom. From there, the two contestants embrace and the game begins all over again until little Rainy collapses from exhaustion, if her dad hasn’t already collapsed first.

Not from exhaustion, but rather from maintaing a squatting position for long periods of time, wherein the knee joints begin screaming for 10 bottles of glucosamine.

Moving on. During one of her hikes to the top, Areyna became unsurprisingly distracted. She heard the neighbor’s dog barking. See, because her little 18 month old mind has not learned the art of tuning out unwanted noises, whenever there is a dog barking within a 30-mile radius, she takes notice. She then begins to indulge the unsuspecting dog in conversation.

Such was the scenario today. She found the barking dog far more interesting than her loving dad with arms held ridiculously wide for incredulous amounts of time waiting at the bottom of Mt. Speed Bump. But for little Rainy, another game was beginning at the top.

And in that moment, the Lord spoke to me.

He said, “Josh, why is it that many of the times that I stand with open arms waiting to embrace you and enjoy life together, you run off, discard the romance, and follow the noises and distractions in your messed-up world. Why do you run away, as if the game is somewhere else? Why do you run, as if life is happening somewhere else? Why do you run when all I want to do is hold you and embrace you and encourage you in your climb to the top of the next mountain? And celebrate with you in your sprint down again into my arms.”

“Could you not put off those distractions for one minute and run back into my arms? Could you not keep your eyes on me throughout this journey that, at times, contains struggles that seem bigger than they are? It’s an ant hill for crying out loud. I made it. I made you. I want to embrace you.” And so I patiently called for Rainy. And she ran to me again. And we hugged.
And we did it all over again.

You can learn alot from kids. I love being a dad.