Deep Calls Out to Deep

Being a child of the 80s, playing outside was a way of life. I climbed trees, scraped my knees, drank out of the hose (or as we called it where I grew up, the hose pipe), rode my bike, and disappeared from most adults as long as the sun was shining.

Bret Michaels would say in 1988 that every rose has its thorn but I knew that in 1984.  That’swhen I ran smack into a rose bush while playing a game of tag and found every rose and every one of their thorns.  Ouch! 

When I say my cousins, who lived across the street and our other neighborhood pals disappeared from most adults, well there was a midday exception.  And on especially hot days, this was our favorite exception. When the sun was scorching and we were having far too much fun to go in, Aunt Kathy appeared on her carport with a tray of butter cookies (the ones we turned into rings on our fingers while we ate them) and grape Kool-aid. Oh yeah! 

Aunt Kathy is my mom’s sister.  My mom’s brother, Uncle Brent, also lived in our neighborhood with my mom’s parents.  Uncle Brent was the youngest and at a full sixteen years younger than my mom, he was actually only twelve years older than I was.  Sometimes we could talk Aunt Kathy and Uncle Brent into playing with us.  When the adults played, it was a whole different kind of fun.  Once Uncle Brent got mildly hurt and my Grampy told Aunt Kathy his boy couldn’t play with her boys anymore.

Aunt Kathy’s carport was amazing with decorations in certain seasons. Halloween was all out.  My Uncle Brent who could be made up to look just like Dracula would get in a coffin on her carport and Aunt Kathy would tap the coffin to signal him that there were kids old enough not to be too afraid and he would open the coffin and rise out to delighted squeals.  Then Aunt Kathy would give out homemade candy apples. And at Christmas we had these amazing get togethers on Christmas Eve.  She had a stuffed Santa Claus that always graced her couch.  One year, the boys dressed him in overalls and put a sign around his neck, elves on strike will work for food. My dad actually dressed as the real Santa at one of our parties.  He was pretty convincing.  My youngest cousin at the time, Griff, was not too trusting of strangers.  But he hopped right up on Santa’s lap when Santa said Merry Christmas, Griff and told him all he wanted.  Aunt Kathy passed by his bedroom as he was saying his prayers…God bless Mommy and Daddy and Mac and Jenny and Wendy and all my family, help me be good.  And just one more thing, God, why was Uncle Ralph dressed as Santa tonight?

That was our family. Everybody close together in proximity and life. Everyone with their special parts to add. Speaking of special parts, Aunt Kathy had a lot of knacks and one of themwas that she was the only one who could get my splinters out for me.  As much as we were “rough and tumble” climbing in trees kids, I had an aversion to pain and a tendency to cry if I thought it would help.  It usually worked on my dad. He hated it when I cried.  With him and pretty much everyone else if I thought it was going to hurt, I squirmed and cried, they gave up for a split second, long enough for me to take off in a run. But Aunt Kathy would get me not to squirm because I learned it wasn’t going to help.  She was going to get that splinter out of my finger because leaving it would hurt me. 

She was also the one who taught me to ride a bike without training wheels.  And when the time came even though I kept saying don’t let go until I’m ready, don’t let go until I’m ready, she knew I could do it.  And she let go of the back of the bike and I had my first big girl ride, no training wheels, no adult.

There is to this day something so special about my relationship with Aunt Kathy.  I go to her when I need that big hug or that real truth.  She holds our family history entirely in her head and she always gives me what I need. Looking back there was a trust between us that she was going to do what was best for me. She had a willingness to let me experience discomfort which is hard when you love someone.  But if she hadn’t, I might well be walking around with festering splinters.  And she risked my possible anger at her letting go of my bike to give me freedom and achievement that I could do it all by myself.

I was thinking about the woman and Jesus in John 8.  This is an incredibly popular partial scripture. A woman caught in adultery facing a judgmental, angry crowd alone (noticeably no adulterous man with her).  Jesus tells them he who is without sin, cast the first stone.  The crowd disperses and He says has no one condemned you?  No one, Sir, she says.  Neither will I condemn you, He says.  This is a highly quoted and paraphrased scripture no one is sinless, if you are, cast the first stone.  

But Jesus doesn’t end there.  He tells her go and sin no more.  He did not condemn her, but He didn’t end the sentence there.  I have often been told when the Bible says don’t, you could fill the rest in with don’t hurt yourself. I mean the ten commandments, if we actually kept them, our lives and relationships would function so much better. Jesus wasn’t judging her.  He could have. He was the one without sin. But He said He wouldn’t condemn her, and He didn’tcondemn her to continue living the way she was. He loved her too much to avoid her discomfort at the phrase of acknowledging that she had been sinning.  He loved her too much to leave her where she was.  He loved her too much to let a splinter fester in her finger just to avoid temporary pain or to let her keep training wheels on forever just to avoid a frightening moment. He loved her enough to want better for her; just like He loves us so much that He wants better for us.

But because of His great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved.

Ephesians 2:4-5