Architects must be in an impish mood when they design houses like ours. No doubt, sitting at their drawing tables (or computers) their minds wander back to the days of their childhood and they fondly recall some of their happiest memories.
It’s the hour between supper and the call for bed–the sweetest hour of the day. Tummies are full with Mother’s cooking. Everyone is home. Darkness is falling outside but it’s unnoticed inside because of the warm glow of the lamps. Schoolwork for the younger ones is done. Ahead lie bedtime stories, hugs and kisses, sweet dreams. But right now it’s the last chance to expend some of the boundless energy with which little people come equipped.
The architect smiles. He moves his pencil (or mouse) to redraw the house he is working on. Let’s see. It must have a central core, a center wall around which the course can be laid out. A sharp hairpin turn by the front door. A twist to the right around the stairway going to the second floor. Then the back stretch–preferably with some frictionless flooring surface ideal for stockinged feet to slide on. Now into the kitchen eating area and a hard left into the dining room. Blast into the straightaway, the long stretch through the living room that joins the first turn where the grandfather clock will stand. Ah, perfect! He gives a self-satisfied smile.
Some people are appalled at the idea. Using the living room for, well, living? Preposterous! And children acting like children in broad daylight? Outrageous! But I recall those days with great fondness. The house filled with laughter and shouts of glee. Sometimes Dad would join in the fray; perhaps a tussle on the floor. At other times he would be Home Safe, the one place of security in our chaotic little world.
Last night, sitting on the sofa, I became Home Safe for five-year-old Sara. She was in the lead position with her brother Dave hard on her heels. Peals of little girl laughter rippled through the house.
Then, in a desperate lunge for freedom and the opportunity for a new lease on life, Sara flew toward me, David a step behind. She barely made contact with my outstretched arms and clung to me while her brother, three years her senior, playfully tugged at her legs. As she began to resemble more and more the rope in a tug-o’-war, she looked up at me, her face wreathed in a grin. “I’ve never had a day like this before!” she said.
Isn’t that the truth! We never know what a day may bring forth (Prov. 27:1). And sometimes in life’s race, when we seem to be making as much progress as children racing around the house, we find ourselves in the clutches of circumstances far less friendly than a brother. It’s then we look up into the face of our Father and say, “I’ve never had a day like this before!”
Recall the words of Scripture that record the following in the life of Job: “And there was a day…” (Job 1:13). It was a day so horrific that Job seemed to have had only two extreme alternatives: curse God or worship Him. Stretched to the limit, he looked into the face of the Father he trusted–“and worshiped” (v. 20).
The year 2000 has arrived. Making our way through its twists and turns, we have no idea what lies around the corner. Some of those days will doubtless be recorded in our true biographies written in heaven as “evil” days. How we need to be fully equipped so we “…may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand” (Eph. 6:13). No use bearing the burdens of yesterday or the worries of tomorrow: “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof” (Mt. 6:34), said the Saviour. But He also promised: “My grace is sufficient for thee: for My strength is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor. 12:9).
There will be such days in life (and such grace), “…until the Day dawn, and the Day Star arise in your hearts” (2 Pet. 1:19). Then we will look up into His face and say, “I’ve never had a day like this before!”