July 2021 Mobile Mission
Copyright 2021 Kat Silverglate
When we are kids, we have this delicious capacity to be surprised. It comes and we receive. We aren’t trying to control it, or ourselves. We are simply surprised by delight and delighted by surprise. When delight succeeds in catching us completely unaware, it has all of us because protection isn’t on our radar screen. Our goals, logic and visions haven’t become like brick-and-mortar fortresses surrounded by moat filled gators trained to devour any unannounced visitor before it can mess with our impenetrable plans.
As children, delight seems to find the unguarded, I-want-to-be-visited-by-you self.
Which is why the delight from the unannounced visit to this 50-something fortress builder shocked me so. I can see now in the rearview mirror that the planning of the surprise took about two years. I can also see that my visitor didn’t bother to hide his clues. They were done in plain sight, never once waking a single gator from its slumber as my fortress was repeatedly breached. So, here’s the reader’s digest version of this set-up story, which you can hear in fuller form in our podcast.
Nearly two years ago, my son and daughter-in-love invited me and my husband to Connecticut. They were still newly-weds and this was their first apartment. We were in a hurry on this particular day, me and my daughter-in-love. Rushing like maniacs. Literally running through the Homegoods store trying to find something big enough to fill an empty alabaster wall in the main living space of their apartment. We’d been at it for several hours now and had scored some great finds, but nothing that said, “this isn’t someone else’s rental property. This is our haven for the next three years. Our newest haven where life will write itself on us. Where life will come at us one second, one minute, one hour, one day at a time.”
I kept checking the time as we weaved serpentine like through the over-stocked isles. We had an appointment shortly but we were taking the scenic route to the checkout line hoping to stumble on something, anything, that would put a period on our New Haven mission. And then, rounding a final corner, it stopped me still. Halted the rush. Suspended time. It wasn’t the period we’d been hoping for. It was an all-out exclamation point. A huge clock, with long sturdy wrought iron arms and a gorgeous red coat leaning on a shelf like a stop sign. Her numbers were crisp and bold with more than a flip of whimsy. Over the spot where one might expect to find the time piece’s heart, she bore the following
phrase: Gather Laugh Love. It was perfect. One swipe of chip-embedded plastic, and it was theirs.
That was September 2019. Fast forward with me now to May 2021. We are standing in that same New Haven apartment. Big Red has been sitting artistically on the floor for nearly two years now. Turns out,
to hang it would have required gargantuan holes in the great wall risking a substantial ding in the security deposit. So, they kept her like you would a decorative statue. Much the same way we were the
day we found the clock, we were rushing around. Only now, we were making room for a literal life. The newest Silverglate was about to arrive and we were assembling the crib, moving dressers, installing
monitors, and folding tiny onsies that would soon cover the place where a heart of flesh beat life. In our hurry, we kept moving the clock out of the way, not knowing where she’d fit when the baby came.
And then, it happened again. Halted. From my hustle. Dead in my tracks. Rounding a corner, I saw the clock from a new angle. Her profile this time. Metal boxes with holes protruded from both sides of her back. It was clear now. These were for the stringing of picture hanging wire. One trip to Home Depot and several ups and downs on a rickety chair later, we’d managed to loop the wire over a beam that intersected the great wall. The alabaster plaster was now scarlet with warmth.
We were gathered, laughing and loving the fix until we spotted the problem. In our haste, we’d forgotten to put a battery in the clock. The time was wrong. With all we still had to do, taking it down wasn’t an option. Finally, someone broke the silence. “What if we wait until the baby is born, change the time of the clock to the time of birth, and let it be a reminder of her arrival?” Ding ding ding! That was it. That is exactly what we’d do. And off we rushed to our tasks.
Fast forward with me just one more time. It’s the day of. Covid restrictions have limited the number of people who are allowed at the hospital. My son, daughter-in-love and her mom are in the birth room. It’s time to push. Her mom calls me. She has me on speaker phone. I’m at the apartment sandwiched between two soon to be giddy grandpas. We put her on speaker phone. In this miraculous way that only digital technology makes possible, we are all gathered for the moment of birth. We hear life enter the world. Real time. We hear her first cry. We hear the pandemonium of delight.
And then, in all the revelry, the clock catches my eye. I want to know the time of birth. I remember, it has no battery. I check my watch. They are the same. The time is now. The clock was already set. God already knew the time of birth. When she’d draw her first breath. He knew we’d have this whole drawn out experience with the clock. That we’d be consumed with delight at His palpable presence. He knew our guards would be down and we’d be like little kids, wide open to Him.
The time is now.
The Psalmist asks:
“Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
8 If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
9 If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
10 even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.
Our mission this month may be our simplest yet. In your mission pack you’ll find a paper clock. It has no hands. It’s waiting for you to draw them. If He is with you, what are you waiting for? Where has He called? What has He called you to? Write it on the clock. Now, look at your watch. What time is it? Is it now? Draw the hands. Take a step in faith. Then one more. Find the time card. Write down the tangible steps you’ll take this week.
Prayer: Lord, you call us out of darkness and into the light. You are the light of the world. Shine your light on each of us today. Call us to You Lord. Amen.
