Maximizing Minimums

In yesterday’s blog we talked about taking advantage of teachable moments that pop up in everyday life, things like being given too much change at a store or not being charged for everything we bought. Rather than look at these moments as irritating inconveniences, wisdom tells us to view them as golden opportunities.

Mary and I, now in our late sixties, look back at our active mothering years and see lots of things we’d do differently if we could begin again. One of them would be to maximize the minimums, in other words, use small moments to teach big concepts.

This would include the obvious, like the extra change situation, but also less apparent chances to teach youngsters. Mary said, “One thing I wish is that I’d involved my kids more in giving to others.”

I reminded her she’d done a great deal, taking meals to people in crisis, driving Meals on Wheels for a hospital, tutoring children after school. She stopped me, though, and said, “But I didn’t usually let my kids help me. It was much easier to get it done without them.” We agreed these were still good deeds, but both of us had forfeited teachable moments.

As we talked, though, we did come up with two times when we did teach our young children through everyday circumstances:

Hot chocolate

  1. Mary and her carload of children drove the same route to school for years, always passing an elderly crossing guard who daily helped young children cross the street (to a different school than Mary’s children attended). She remarked to her kids about this man’s faithfulness to his task, rain or shine, and wondered how they might show admiration for this stranger. Her children decided, during a very cold winter, to bring a thermos of hot chocolate to him and a thank you for a job well done. Whether or not the old man appreciated it, Mary’s children learned to consider the effort of someone else and express thanks for it.

Leopard-lined gloves2. In driving my own carpool daily (to a different school), the children and I always passed an older woman bowed over with extreme osteoporosis. Gripping a walker, she inched along a particular stretch of sidewalk next to a middle-aged man, no doubt her son, painfully exercising at the same time every day. We looked for her as we came down the street, and my children wondered what we might do to encourage her. They decided to buy her a pair of warm winter gloves and deliver them with an original poem of admiration. On the day we stopped our van for them to jump out and approach her, I knew we’d accomplished something worthwhile in my kids.

Surely countless other examples could serve as ways to maximize teachable moments for children, whether our own or someone else’s. Jesus instructed us to be of practical help to others, not just for their benefit but for ours, too. He knew that would make everybody happy.

“How joyful are those who fear the Lord…. They share freely and give generously to those in need.” (Psalm 112:1,9)

Count the Cost

Although I don’t usually scrutinize my grocery receipts, this weekend after arriving home with my bags I did, because the total seemed so low. That’s when I realized the check-out girl hadn’t charged me for a small rose plant I’d bought as a Mother’s Day gift.

Sweetheart roses

Since I was on a tight schedule and the store was a 30 minute round trip from home, I didn’t have time to go back. And if I had, two things might have happened, making me wish I hadn’t. (1) The cashier might have gotten in trouble, and (2) the store manager might have said, “Don’t worry about it.”

So I did nothing.

The next day I explained it all to Mary, complaining about the inconvenience of having to go back to the store since I knew the right thing to do was pay what I owed. “You know,” she said, “it’s funny how that seems inconvenient now, but when I had kids living at home, I used to literally pray for opportunities just like that one. It was the perfect chance to teach something important without saying a word.”

She was right. Children watch us closely, “catching” the values we live out in front of them. Maybe, I thought, if I corrected the payment problem of the rose plant, someone I didn’t even know might “be watching.”

The day after my rose non-purchase, I had another list of errands, this one in the opposite direction. Last on my list was to head back to the rose store to settle up. When I finally got there, I walked over to the display of rose plants from which I’d “bought” the first one the day before. Pondering the best way to make things right, I decided to buy a second plant and let the checker scan it twice rather than go through the manager, causing trouble for the young girl who’d forgotten to charge me.

That girl wasn’t on duty, so I chose a young boy cashier and briefly explained that I wanted to pay for the plant I’d gotten for free the day before. “So,” I said, “why don’t you just scan this one twice,” I said, handing him the plant.

“Really?” he said, looking me in the eye. He picked up the plant, waved it over the scanner, then held it in the air, ready to do it again. Looking back at me he said, “You sure?”

“Yes,” I said,  “because if I didn’t do it, I wouldn’t sleep tonight, you know?”

“I suppose,” he said, swiping it a second time.

“And if I let myself get away with it this time, it would be easy to do it again some other time.”

“Maybe,” he said, slowly bagging the plant, not entirely convinced.

But as I turned to go, he said, “Hey… I appreciate what you just did.”

When I got in the car, I looked at the receipt. Amazingly, this one seemed low, too. Actually it was. Between yesterday and today, the roses had been marked down to half price, so I ended up with two…. for the price of one.

Sweetheart roses

Sweetheart roses“Better to be poor and honest than to be dishonest and a fool.” (Proverbs 19:1)

How ’bout now?

As a mother of young children, I was never a consistent disciplinarian. Having had a mom whose M.O. was to “let the kids have fun,” I didn’t know how to do it, and besides, being the bad guy was hard work. So I schlepped along, hit-and-miss, and it’s only God’s grace that brought my children through.

Jesus was never a parent, but we get glimpses of his parenting skills throughout the Gospels. I love to read how he got frustrated with his disciple-children once in a while, because all parents have those same exasperating moments.

Kids know in their hearts that parents have their best interests in mind when they set the rules, but a desire to “do their own thing” is often stronger than the will to comply. I saw a recent example of that in my granddaughter Skylar:

Pep!

This energetic, creative little girl is, at 4½, something of an expert on family relations. Last week when we were visiting, the whole family was working toward a birthday dinner for her little sister, Autumn. Company was coming at 5:00, and there was much to do. Linnea called to Skylar, asking if she’d please come into the kitchen to help her.

Caring for pets

Skylar’s reply was interesting. “Mommy, I’d love to help you a whole bunch, but I first have to deal with one of my pets who is having a birthday party tonight also.”

Her comment reminded me of the Bible story where 3 men expressed an interest in joining the ranks of disciples following Jesus. Their words said they were all-in, “a whole bunch,” but the excuses they gave as to why they couldn’t do it right-this-minute fell flat with Jesus.

These unnamed men had no concept of what they were about to give up by making excuses. They believed Jesus was their wondrous Messiah, but incredibly, after this conversation with the Son of God, they chose to go their own way.

Jesus did, too.

I shake my head and think, “They could have had one-on-one teaching from the Master! They could have watched his every move, listened to every conversation, gleaned how righteous living worked. They could have followed him all the way to the cross, to the Garden Tomb, and even to Resurrection Day! By making excuses, they forfeited it all.”

But am I any better? Hasn’t God asked me to do this or that when I’ve said, “Good idea, Lord. I’ll definitely get around to that somewhere along the way.” When I respond in that maybe-later way, do these God-structured opportunities evaporate? Does he come back later? Or does he go and ask a more obedient “child?”

What treasured opportunities have I forfeited?

Skylar didn’t get away with her bogus excuse, since Linnea and Adam are much better at disciplinary follow-through than I ever was. But as for Jesus, I have a hunch he usually leaves it up to us.

“Yes, Lord, I will follow you, but first let me say good-bye to my family.” (Luke 9:61)