Slideshow image

This past week, I took our foster daughter to her "bio visit" on my day off. Unfortunately, her mom was unable to make it (which is unusual), so Baby D was stuck running errands with me. I was in line at one place, and the pace was slow-moving. In that slow-moving line, someone must have attached a sign to me that read, "Please ask me about this child."

An older grandmother was the first to let me know how cute the baby was and asked what was wrong with her. We chatted for several minutes about foster care, helmets on kids, abuse, grandchildren, God, and my poor wife, who has all these kids. Next, a single mom with two kids under two asked me about her. Want to guess what we chatted about? (Hint—see above.)Next, a middle-aged woman asked me about her… rewind, repeat.

At errand location number two, I also had the opportunity to be stopped repeatedly to have discussions with random strangers about the dynamics of my family life. A young woman in her 20s let me know what a good dad I was for having my kid with me, then proceeded with the typical questions. A guy (about my age) talked to me about being a dad and how hard it is, then proceeded with the typical questions. The checkout person asked me, "What did you do to her?" and regretted asking when I gave her the generic rundown of the kid's life.

At stop three, I couldn't even get the kid out of the car before the lady next to me saw me getting the cart and profusely apologized for not giving me hers. "If I had known you had your baby, I would have walked it to you. "On the way in, an older grandfather told me I was doing the right thing by spending time with my kids in everyday moments, and we joked about her keeping me on budget in the store. Two older women in the produce section commented on her sweet face, then asked the typical questions—to which they received the firehose answers.

What did my errands remind me of that day? Apparently, I am a delight to talk to when I have my kids around. I get it… they can be conversation starters for folks in public. While others striking up a conversation may be natural due to their stage of life, similar situation, curiosity about the kiddo’s condition, curiosity about how a pale fella like me has an Ethiopian baby, or because of their faith-based perspective, it reminded me that talking with others is actually not as hard as we make it out to be. Random strangers giving me their time and asking for mine in the course of a normal day's events.

Yet, without my kids, it is quite possible to barely interact with anyone in a manner that grants me the opportunity to speak in some way of God's goodness in my life.

A few important questions to ask myself (possibly ask yourself):

  • Am I not having conversations because my facial expressions and demeanor give off a clear vibe that I do NOT want to talk to anyone?
  • Am I worried about having to interact, so I glue my phone to my hand and practically "disappear" in public while in a line?
  • Am I unwilling to take the time or make the effort to simply be kind or outgoing toward fellow human beings around me?
  • Am I letting insecurity or selfishness control my interactions with others instead of God's Spirit?
  • Am I creating opportunities with others, or am I expecting them to create them with me?
  • How many people were around me today that I could have spoken to—or who would have spoken to me—if I had one of my kids?

As a Christian, I am called to tell others of my Savior. It is not complicated, nor does every conversation have to be extended—I just need to speak or respond in ways that give an avenue for the Gospel or the goodness of God. It seems I need to continue growing in being a delight to talk to… with or without any kids present.

Serving together,

Pastor Paul