The Little Red Wagon

It was the summer of 1980. I was about 5 and my brother was 7 years old. One beautiful Saturday morning, our Mom had the audacity to ask us to clean our rooms. Oh, the horrors! Miss all our cartoons to clean up our mess. We lived for Saturday morning and Bugs & Daffy, Woody Woodpecker, the Jetsons. It was like the best part of our week, sitting in our pj's with milk from our cereal dripping from our chins while our eyes were glued to the tv for a few hours. We were done with tv when This Old House or the news came on. Life would then resume as normal and we would play or do whatever mischievious thing would come to mind. This particular Saturday morning our Mom put a kink in our plans. Clean our rooms! What nerve! We refused and she said do it anyway! After much deliberating and pouting about the unfairness of the world we hatched a fool-proof plan. We would run away. That way not only would we not have to clean our room we could have an adventure. If we got stopped halfway to nowhere, our parents would be so glad to have us safe at home that we would probably never have to clean our rooms again, maybe never do chores for the rest of our lives. We would live like Kings!
So we put our plan into action, we dug around in our mess of toys to find our favorites that would go on the journey with us. To an adult it might have resembled cleaning our rooms, but oh no we were packing for our trip. In the time it took us to pack, we probably could have cleaned our rooms and been zombies watching our cartoons, but we had a point to make. We had rights!
We drug our packs through the kitchen and told our Mom farewell. We went outside and got our trusty red wagon.We packed all our worldly possessions or at least the ones we could carry and set of to find a new home and a land of adventure. We pulled and tugged our wagon to the driveway. The excitement was bubbling up in our hearts. What would we see? Who would we meet? What would we eat for lunch? These questions rolled around in our heads. Our little wagon was getting a little heavy and we started to argue with each other about how much of each others treasures should have been left at home. All of our arguements stopped when we came to an abrupt halt. Something had come between us and our journey to see the wonders of the world. We came to the end of our driveway. The road came between us and the wilderness of the world. We sat and pondered our dilemma. We weren't allowed to cross the road. HHMMMM, why didn't we think of that? Who knows how long we sat there until one of us decided we must return to our house and face the music with dignity. We marched back to the house and our Mom just smiled and pointed to our rooms. Now we not only had to clean our rooms, but we had to lug all our"treasures" from the wagon to our rooms. That really stunk and by the time we quit feeling sorry for ourselves and actually cleaned our room it was almost bedtime. What! The whole day wasted, for what? A clean room! Who could of told us it was wasted by attitude and not by the chore.


I was reminded by God of this childhood memory while looking at my own boys disaster area they call a bedroom. God gave me this little thought to ponder on.
How many times does He ask me to do a simple task and I say"no" and have a pity party. I complain about the inequality of life and how unfair things are. I pack my little red wagon and set off to face the world on my own. "Oh He will be sorry for asking more of me than I can handle" Then I get to the road and realize, I can't cross it and if I could where on Earth would I go? He is everywhere. So I deflate my prideful ego and hang my head as I return home and now have all the extra work of unpacking my little red wagon added to my original request from God. Seems pretty silly when I think of it like that!

a Different Perspective

Randy & I recently stumbled upon a song we both really enjoyed. The words were beautiful and powerful. I found the cd and bought it. The entire cd was good, although it was a bit dark & melancholy. After listening to the entire cd and enjoying it, I read the list of people the artist wanted to thank for helping make the music possible. There I found out his wife had committed suicide years before and this was his way of expressing his grief, anger, anguish and probably a million other emotions. That piece of info put it all in a different perspective. The words had a more painful meaning. I can't listen to it now with the same nonchalant attitude. In fact I really don't want to listen to it all because I can't think beyond the pain that caused it to be written.

John Travolta: Grease, Welcome Back Kotter and many other great movies. I used to love watching him and I thought he was pretty cute, too. (that always helps;)
After watching Pulp Fiction though I don't even want to watch any movie with him in it. I just couldn't get past the themes and violence that it contained. But now I have a thought and strong emotion directly tied to John Travolta and it has ruined enjoying any of his work. It is all a matter of a different perspective.
Would I rather be ignorant of Pulp Fiction so I can just enjoy all the other movies?
Would I rather not know the story behind the song so I could just enjoy a good song?
Take this train of thought as far as you want........
I might ponder it some more.