That House

When I was a kid, I lived in that house. You know the one. Mom bakes brownies. Buys chips and Kool-Aid. Kids congregate. Big basement. Ping pong. Sleepovers. Seemed like every kid in the neighborhood is over after school to empty the fridge. Football in the field next door.

That house.

When I had children of my own, I dreamed of being that house. The problem was we lived in the country. Still do. I decided we were too remote to be that house. After all, I grew up in a neighborhood. Isn't that one of the criteria? That, and your mom bakes brownies.

I don't bake brownies.

I made some pathetic attempts at being that house. I trucked kids in. I bought Oreos. I tried. But I found out being that house is something that isn't achieved. It just happens.

I gave up. Was it really that important anyway?

Then, something amazing happened.

My daughter decided to return to a school she transferred from two years ago. Now she's entering her last year of high school.

It took about five minutes for her group of old friends to welcome her back with open arms (and school hasn't even started). They are really great kids. Nice. Polite. Respectful.

The amazing thing that happened is we sort of became that house. Out of thin air. Poof. That house.

Sure, it isn't as extreme as the weekly, sometimes daily, that house events I had as a child, but is that really what I want as a parent? My mother I am not. (Remember the brownies?)

But it is enough of a that house to make me feel somehow gratified. Happy to have so many young people around. Happy to see youth living, laughing, having a good time in my basement. In my yard.

Kids over for play.

For movies.

Hanging out.

Bonfires.

It's fun when something you wanted to happen and gave up on long ago all of a sudden happens. It makes me smile. A gift.

It reminds me of so many gifts I've been given from my loving, Heavenly Father.

Given at the right time.
 
With God, I think He wants me to have all the that houses I long for. As long as they are good for me. And as long as they are not what I am centering my life on. My focus.

It seems some things are never given. Not good for me I suppose.

But some things are just withheld. Until the time is right. Like being that house.

I know now that God wants to give me good gifts, but not because I beg like a spoiled child, as if I won't be happy unless I get it. But because He loves me. And He wants me to love Him too. Love Him more than whatever it is I want.

Love Him more than having that house.

Having that job.

Having that relationship the way I want it.

Having that financial situation.

Having that result.

That bonus.

That relief.

That satisfaction.

That justice.

That happiness.

That thing.

That whatever.

Love Him more than all of the thats in the world.

And when I do, when I look to Him and want to know Him more than I want anything else, a funny thing happens. I forget about a lot of the thats. I forget.

But sometimes, I am reminded because I get a gift. A gift of something that I used to count as vitally important and gave up on. Removed from the center, where only Jesus belongs.

And my house becomes that house.

And the best part is, it was a surprise. Like all the best gifts are.