Happy Meal

My older two children were toddlers at the time. We chose the drive-thru of their favorite place for lunch. The box was colorful. A gift wrapped for each child. It was like Christmas. Inside there was food. But food was not the reason for their excitement. We sat expectant because we knew that toys waited. Time after time in this drive-thru each lunch brought a new toy.

But not this time. Faces shone. Little hands pulled out the food in haste and scattered fries and nuggets on the seat and dangling toward the floor. Toddler eyes called for back-up and entered every corner and nook of that box. But the box was empty. All the gift offered was food.

I looked at the drive-thru lady. She shrugged her shoulders. With a great deal of empathy she said, "We're all out of toys today." Grimace shadowed my countenance. I looked back at these little ones and bravely spoke the words. "I'm sorry guys, there is no toy today."

Tears trickled at first. And then like waters charging a dam, cries burst out and flooded the car. We sat there unhappy with our meal. We had to face the day with no toy.

Ancient Paths for the Soul

I remember the path I took every morning toward Saint Anthony Elementary. I was a boy who rain or shine, walked to school. Marshall Avenue was my road. Just across from the Methodist Church yard at Bowne Avenue, several small apartments formed a huddle every morning on the right. If a boy had the courage he could turn strategically from the road into that strange bunch. He could walk into a run if need be while passing the mutterings of apartment doors ready to open or rustlings from within waiting to shout. For just beyond the legs of the last apartment stood a row of trees. And if you knew where to look for it, a path waited expectantly ready to say, “This is the way walk in it.” A field, open and secure was the reward for such courage. Just beyond that field the Saint Anthony Playground waited. It was as if each new dawn spoke to me, saying, “Step off of the road, boy. Take the path and you’ll have minutes more to play before school.”

I'm not a boy anymore. By coming to terms with that fact, I am not stating that my hankering for a good path is diminished. Its just that I need paths that possess the capacity to rest my soul amid this restless wrangling of days. I'm trying to figure out how to get from here to there intellectually, emotionally, daily in such a way that my interior life remains whole and strong. Jesus points me to Eden, to the Prodigal and to home. He bids me consider the three paths of solitude, hospitality and wisdom on which to travel and find with Him my way. Meanwhile, a man selling paths whistles at me. "Hey man" he says. "I got the goods you want." "What are you peddling now?" I say. "I got plenty of celebrity" he says. "Immediately a crowd forms to clap for me, a woman calls her eyes to flirt with me. "I know you like applause" he continues "and attention." (A spotlight then shines on me, a band starts to play). Then he adds, "I also got some good productivity and immediate gratification for you too." "You can stay busy, give people constant product and never have to wait for anything. Hell, you won't have any more boredom, no more reflection, only work, buzz and appreciation." Everyone cheers, some reach to shake my hand, others begin to flatter me with how awesome they think I am.

"What will it cost me?" I inquire. The music gets louder. "A restful soul" he shouts. "But no worries man, I've known lots of people go almost their whole lives without a restful soul . . .and they don't seem to mind at all."