Undercover Pastor

We went to Disneyland last week!

I would have figured the boys were too young at 10 months and 2-3/4, but Eleanor’s parents won some Disneyland tickets in a raffle, and we were planning to be in Anaheim, CA (home of Mickey Mouse) for Thanksgiving anyway so… we went!

The kids had fun – well, Joshua has fun pretty much everywhere – and they did very well.

Johnny met his first beauty-pageant-winning teen girls. He was a little embarrassed. (See picture above.)

They both loved meeting the life-size characters. Minnie Mouse even played a little peek-a-boo/hide-and-seek game with Johnny for a few minutes until the crowd appeared to get her autograph. He really enjoyed that. In fact, I was impressed with the way the actors played their characters. Most of them really seemed to be enjoying themselves and were giving it their all, which the kids really appreciated.

Actually, even though the lines were really long on the day before Thanksgiving at the end of the 50th anniversary party year, the kids really enjoyed themselves.

Of course, it was a huge overload. We were there from about 10 a.m. to about 6 p.m., and both boys took a nap in there, but it was just too much to take in. I mean, you go from your normal life in a world that is mostly designed for adults and is mostly utilitarian to a world designed to be a child’s fantasy… except for the huge lines and great expense (but I’m getting ahead of myself here!)

Johnny couldn’t get to sleep until about midnight, and then he kept waking up with nightmares. I think he was just trying to process all of the overload.

The picture on the right seemed to symbolize that part of the experience. Heck, even I was feeling that way.

So let me say that everyone was very friendly and the experience was very positive overall.

But, of course, the undercover pastor was checking out the scene too.

While I was there, I had a feeling that I remembered… I was eventually able to pinpoint it as the feeling when I came back to the United States after my time in Mexico. It was culture shock! Now granted, Eleanor and I don’t live in the upper-middle-class, SUV-saturated world that many of the Disneyland “guests” come from, but that wasn’t everyone there…

Everything was just over the top. My brother-in-law told me that they spend $300,000 each night on the special 50th anniversary fireworks show. (I haven’t been able to verify the number.) Even if it’s only a tenth of that, it’s enough for a family to live on for a year. Yikes!

It just felt so… decadent. In some ways it was like the last days of the Roman Empire. I even felt a little guilty being there, knowing what I know from my ministry about people just barely making it or not quite making it. People were starving and living in cars while we played in our own private world. What does this teach my boys?

To be perfectly honest, I’m conflicted about it. I want my kids to have great, fun experiences. We’re not going to go to Disneyland every weekend or even every year. It’s not so bad to have a treat now and then (even if it costs $56/day for an adult to set foot in the park), right?

I guess the answer is the same one that comes up so often when we try to live responsibly as Christians. We’re called to do what we can and to use what God has given us responsibly. But I can cut loose every so often and give my kids a treat and get to see the big smiles and looks of wonder that Disneyland brings to their faces – as long as we teach them good stewardship and the importance of loving and serving our neighbor too.

(More on the Disney operation later!)

Ahhh, a morning when I can sleep in. Sure, Joshua’s romping on the bed, but I can ignore that. Well, I thought I could. Might as well get up. Yawn. Hey, he’s reaching for my – YOW!

Joshua tried to grab my eyeball and scratched the cornea of my right eye.

It got really red and hurt badly all day. The doctor gave me antibiotics and assured me that it would be pretty much healed in about 24 hours. It stopped hurting in 24 hours, but it was hardly “healed.” everything had weird shadows and halos. It looked like there were at least three copies of everything – the main one, a second one below it, and a strange different-colored smaller one on the right.

Now I have come to depend on my right eye, and it was very strange to try to drive. Driving around with my eye closed meant no depth perception. Driving with it open was like some of the graphics one of my former coworkers used to “perform” for Grateful Dead concerts with his electropaint program.

I’ve gotten used to being able to see. Sure, I need glasses now, but they pretty much take care of the problem. It was creepy having that vision distortion and wondering if it would go away. I could live a perfectly normal life with it if I had to, but I really missed my normal right eye.

Two days before, I had completely taken it for granted but now I was really missing it.

When it finally healed, I was so grateful. I can see!! But now I’m back to ignoring my right eye… Taking it for granted.

As we approach Thanksgiving, I wonder how I could live a life of gratitude for the simple things I count on… Without experiencing their loss, it’s hard to appreciate how important they are.

Awhile back, we went to the birthday party of one of Johnny’s friends. This kid had a nice plastic basketball hoop with a small basketball that was just the right size for Johnny, and Johnny had a great time playing with it… Since Johnny loves everything that involves a ball (basketball, baseball, football, you name it), I started thinking that it would be nice to buy him a basketball set so he could start building the skills he’ll need to play the sports he’s so excited about.

About a year ago, Johnny wanted to play basketball so I took a wire coat hanger, bent it into a hoop, and hung it on the clothes hamper in Eleanor’s and my bedroom. That was OK for a toddler, but it’s not really going to teach Johnny about basketball. So I decided that it might be time to get him a kid-sized basketball hoop.

When I mentioned it to Johnny, I expected him to be excited. “Johnny, we’re thinking about buying you an outside basketball hoop like your friend Hayden has so we can play basketball!” His reply surprised me.

Johnny said, “We don’t need one, Dad. We already have an inside basketball hoop!”

I wasn’t sure how to feel. It was wonderful that my son was happy with what he had. I was proud, but at the same time part of me still felt like there was something sad about a boy being satisfied with a coat hanger basketball hoop.

I think the sad feeling comes from part of me that still believes the lie that we need a bunch of stuff to be happy and that I’m not an adequate father and provider unless my son can have all those things.

Here’s a picture of Johnny playing on his “indoor basketball court.”

Johnny’s a good kid.