Hooky

My father had a saying when I was a kid. Every time the doors of the church were open, you were there “unless you were on a stretcher.” Now, don’t be too hard on my Dad, because I’m sure that if I had no pulse or was profusely bleeding from an open head wound, I could have missed a Wednesday night prayer meeting or something. But if it had been internal bleeding, I may have met my Maker before the testimonies were finished.

I played hooky from church this week, and it’s amazing how guilty I can still feel. To make matters worse, I cut church in order to attend a baseball tournament. J.J.’s team earned enough wins on Saturday to warrant their return the next day. It is a rare occurrence (not the winning, the Sunday morning game time) but it happened this weekend.

Basically, I became a little manic, which was easy to cover up with baseball enthusiasm. I found myself “over-cheering” as I handled the emotional crisis within me. I almost hoped a foul ball would bean me and an ambulance would need to be summoned. I suspect they’d have a stretcher in the back, wouldn’t they?

The Word Detective dates the first printed use of the phrase “playing hooky” to 1848 and relates it to the 19th-century phrase "hooky-crooky," which means "dishonest or underhanded." The parent of this phrase is "by hook or by crook," meaning "by any means necessary."

Geez, God, can I not catch a little break here?

The team lost in the second round (in a real nail biter) and we returned home at about 1 p.m. Along the route, we stopped at a local farm and purchased some annuals to fill our pots out by the pool. The kids and I spent a couple of hours digging, planting and watering. We had the best time. At one point, J.J. was staring at a delicate, beautiful purple and white flower that he had chosen to buy. He looked at me smiling and said, “Mom, imagine what it was like for Adam, seeing everything for the first time. His brain must have been so happy.” Mia sang as she planted and used the garden hose. It was an original composition, something about how God makes things grow. Noah planted sunflower seeds and kept looking at the area every few minutes to see if one had sprouted.

Later that evening, I reflected on the day. In many ways, I had the best Sabbath. The other baseball mothers and I have formed real community and we sat and talked about our lives in an honest way. The baseball bats created a choir of sound - aluminum meeting leather. The sermon was entitled, “Having the Eyes of Adam” and it reminded me of how God wants me to see people and the world. And He told me once again about hope, that even hidden things hold the potential for new life.

Church probably shouldn’t be associated with shame or guilt, but for many it is. Don’t misunderstand me, I think we should be there by hook or by crook, but I wish I was as excited to be there as I am to watch my son catch a fly ball. Why is that?