games

Well, now he really has done it! After all these years, he’s taken leave of his senses completely.

I suppose it had to happen sooner or later. The blog name should have been enough warning. You should never have had any delusions.

Perhaps, I should pour a little oil on the troubled waters and make certain you don’t think I’m becoming a groupie of the edgy and not-a-little-odd popular singer named Gaga. I’m not even a fan. Couldn’t name a single song she’s recorded. I think I might be excused. I am, after all, a grandfather. It’s expected of me.

Let’s see if I can clear this up.

I took a ride in the country with my grandchildren this afternoon, finding myself in a beautiful valley beside a noisy creek at the end of the ride. Their dad had business to do with the folks at the camp in that valley, so I hung out with the important people.

Grandpa and the kids played gaga ball.

What’s that you say?

Yeah. Me neither. Never heard of it before. Never played it, either.

Gaga ball is a sort of dodgeball played in a hexagonal wooden box about 20 to 25 feet across, with sides somewhere around 3 feet tall. The nice thing is, no one gets hits in the face. There are no red welts on your body after you get knocked out of the game. The ball can only touch other players below the knees.

This sixty-something-year-old man played it with no visible ill effects. It may, however, take a little time to get over the emotional scarring. The just-turned-ten-year-old girl embarrassed me more than once, yelling you’re out! in a victorious voice that left no doubt my lunch had just been eaten.

She wasn’t the only one to take a bite. All of them tagged me with the ball at least once. I even got a chance to yell victoriously a time or two myself.

Mostly, I yelled for the kids.

What a wonderful way to spend an afternoon! Well, not all afternoon. Later this evening, I also spent an hour and a quarter making music with more than twenty young adults in a little chamber orchestra. It’s an activity the Lovely Lady and I look forward to a couple of times a week at the local university.

I have described the effect of this activity as keeping us young on several occasions. That’s not quite what happens. I think the relationship we have with the young folks there is somewhat symbiotic. In other words, we benefit, but so do they.

We give them a chance to see old people living life. They give us a chance to see their lives and interactions. Our being there tells them they matter to someone besides their professors and their peers. Them tolerating our presence encourages us that all is not lost.

Somehow, I think we may actually like each other!

Sadly, I think my dad jokes are lost on them, but I guess that’s one I’ll just have to take for the team.

I regularly hear my peer group suggesting they don’t understand the generation coming of age now. Worse, I hear criticisms that border on despair and anger.

There’s a phrase that comes to mind as I consider the problem.

Get some skin in the game.

The words mean you must have a personal investment in order to realize any beneficial result. Not necessarily money, but it could mean that. In my case, I risked my physical skin by clambering into the gaga pit with the young hooligans today.

Engage. Put yourself in a position to lose something real in order to gain something even better.

Put yourself in a position to lose something real in order to gain something even better. Click To Tweet

Friendship. Understanding. Love.

Love is good. The One we follow suggested we should be known specifically for that action. It’s the way the world will know we are His. Period. (John 13:35)

Somehow, we have come to believe they’ll know us because of our critical spirits. Or, our separation. Or, our pride.

The sad thing is, we’re often identified by those things. To our shame. At least, it should be to our shame.

In the interest of full disclosure, I must admit I didn’t start out the afternoon with my grandchildren in the gaga pit with them.

I stood in the shade. I looked at my phone. I looked at my watch. I yelled you’re out at a couple of them a time or two. They looked at me, wondering where I got the right to gloat over their (temporary) defeat.

They knew what I wasn’t seeing. Kids do that, you know.

I didn’t have any skin in the game.

It’s time to engage. Go to the coffee shops they frequent. Ask questions. Tell stories. Invite them to come over and play dominoes. They’ll roll their eyes. But, they’ll probably come if food is involved.

Listen to their music. Even Gaga. Play some of it. Wear ear protection.

Engage. Take chances. Be real.

And, the next time your group of oldsters starts criticizing, ask what they’re doing to make it better.

When Jesus told His followers to let the children come to Him, He touched them. He embraced them to ensure they understand they mattered. To Him—God who became man—they were somebody! (Mark 10:14)

They are somebody. Still today, they are somebody.

Time to get some skin in the game.

Time to start playing some gaga.

Ball, I mean.

We cannot transform what we refuse to engage.
(Elizabeth Kucinich ~ British activist)

Start children off on the way they should go,
and even when they are old they will not turn from it.
(Proverbs 22:6 ~ NIV ~ New International Version ~ Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica)

Take one step forward.

I loved rainy days. As a kid in third grade, any change from the monotonous routine was welcomed. Recess in the hot sun consisted of games of tether ball or freeze-tag. One might get a turn on the swings, but that was for the little kids. And, it was always hot. Always.

No. Rainy days were great. We took our recess in the combined cafeteria/auditorium. The long dining tables were shoved to the walls and the concrete floor between them was our playground. Instead of the usual every-kid-for-himself chaos, we played organized games there.

On the day my old brain is reliving tonight we were all playing the game called Simon Says.

Sixty-some participants stood side by side, awaiting instructions. The teacher called out the order.

“Take one step forward.”

From one end of the cafeteria to the other, no one moved. Except me. One step forward.

Well? That’s what she said to do.

“No. I didn’t say ‘Simon says.’ You’re out, Paul. Go sit on the edge of the stage.”

One step. Just one and I was disqualified. The game lasted the whole period.

“Simon says, ‘Jump on one leg.’ Simon says, ‘Stop.'”

I sat, joined eventually by others who were also foolish enough to make a move without the authority of the mysterious Simon. For the whole hour, I sat.

I remember now.

I hate rainy days.

That was many years ago. A lot has happened since those days—some good, some bad. I’ve done some things I am proud of, and more than a few of which I am not.

Sometimes we get chances to make amends. I have learned that most of those chances have to be approached purposefully. Still, I don’t always know if I should make those moves or not. Often, I wish there were someone standing to the side, saying stupid words like Simon says to give me the nudge I need—perhaps, even permission, or at least, someone to blame.

Just a couple of months ago, I had one of those times.

While wandering through the never-never-world of Facebook one evening, I happened to look up the name of an old friend. I say he is an old friend, but I only knew him for a bit over a year’s time, nearly forty years ago. We were in a bible study together during that year.

I was a know-it-all kid, certain I had all the answers. I had a concordance and I wasn’t afraid to use it! When my friend and I disagreed in our group about a certain passage in the Bible (and there were many such disagreements), I wasn’t adverse to attacking the character of the man, rather than sticking to a rational discussion of the meaning and context.

I’ve spent most of the forty years since wishing I had treated him better. I wondered if I would ever get a chance to apologize for my arrogance and insensitivity. Our Teacher told us if we knew of anything another person had against us, we were not even to offer our gifts to God, before we went and made things right. (Matthew 5: 23, 24)

I have placed my offering in the basket many times since that day.

But, on that evening when I found my friend’s name on Facebook, suddenly the never-never-land turned into a haunted house, with ghosts and scary memories galore. It is easy to be petrified in such a place and simply do nothing.

I could just close the browser window on my computer and get on with my life. No blood visible, no foul committed. Keep playing!

It was my move. And, wouldn’t you know it, there was no teacher around to say Simon says, ‘Move one step forward.’

I never was all that good at waiting for the Simon says instructions, anyway.

I took the step. Friend request sent.

The next morning, there was an answer. Friend request approved.

And then—nothing happened.

Nothing. Until this morning. I received a personal message that said in effect, Who are you? Do I know you?

He didn’t remember me! He’s not angry. He can’t even remember sitting with me in that living room.

I sent a reply. Sorry. Request sent in error. Then I clicked the unfriend function.

That’s the end of that. I’m washing my hands and moving on.

You know that’s not how this works, right? Obviously, I didn’t do any of that.

But, here was my problem: Where was the person who would tell me Simon says to take another step? When would I get some clarification? My old friend wasn’t angry at me. Did I still need to make things right?

I took the step. Hard as it was, I jogged his memory and accepted the responsibility for my actions.

Can I let you in on a little secret? Obedience is always the correct response to God’s prompting. Always.

Does it always turn out with a storybook ending?

No.

But today, I have gained back a brother. We’re going to get together the next time either of us is anywhere in the vicinity of the other. We’ll eat a meal together. We’ll shake hands. We may argue over something, but it will be over something and not about the other person in the discussion.

Values are important for us to hold onto. They don’t require that we beat people over the head with them. Speaking the truth in love will never look any different. If a personal attack is involved, love is not.

I have gained back a brother. It took a step on my part. And, one on his. And, another on mine. That’s the way it works.

Do you have something you know needs to be accomplished? Resolved? Repaired?

Take one step forward.

Oh, sorry.

Simon says, “Take one step forward.”

Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and knit together by every joint with which it is supplied, when each part is working properly, makes bodily growth and upbuilds itself in love.
(Ephesians 4:15,16 ~ RSV)

What saves a man is to take a step. Then another step. It is always the same step, but you have to take it.
(Antoine de Saint-Exupéry ~ French author/poet ~ 1900-1944)

He's Taken Leave

Random wanderings with Paul Phillips

Skin In The Game. Playing Some Gaga.

Simon Says