By Nairy A. Ohanian

About three times a week, around five in the afternoon, I receive an energetic, four foot two, wavy haired interruption on my front lawn. I have a porch swing sitting in my yard facing the house, as the front porch is too small for a porch swing. The swing which is facing the house fits snuggly under the crabapple tree with its ruby fruit, heavy on its branches.

Not only does the faded mustard-colored swing face the house, it faces my kitchen desk. I usually hear a crash of the swing against the battered tree behind, as six year old Andreas, the fighter pilot, starts flying the swing. Swoosh, dive, crash- the swing revs up for yet another air battle, and Andreas is in another world. But typical of most six year old fighter pilots he gets bored after nearly five whole minutes. The swing safely lands and gently rocks as Andreas settles back and reflectively looks at the kitchen window.

With the slightest lift of my head I peak around my laptop to see if he has spotted me inside. With practiced precision I lower my gaze to the ever important email on my screen. Again a subtle lift of my eyes reveals a peaceful boy, legs dangling above the bald ground, happily humming and peeling a branch. Lowering my watchdog stare, I am once again sweetly confronted with an interruption to, come out and play.

The temptation to play is promptly accosted by such thoughts as “but this email will only take a few minutes and I have to check my bank balance before five and my monthly report is due tomorrow and my weekend lecture needs proofreading.” These and other endless demands confront with flash flood speed, and leave me breathless.

I come up for air from this flood which is about to drown me to see Andreas now at the edge of the swing. The stick is all peeled and six year old restlessness is once again encroaching. I know I have mere minutes to shake off the flood waters I am floundering in and acknowledge the interruption awaiting in the front yard. Otherwise a sullen, slumped child will soon shuffle back home with unnecessary disappointment. My schedule flashes through my brain as one shuffling cards; do I have extra time later tonight? Can I squeeze in more between these demands? Can anything be slightly delayed? Think, think, my exhausted brain rages. Will this interruption ruin my day, is the bare naked truth I panic over? The seconds are closing in, Andreas reluctantly rises to his feet, and I am split in two with a decision like a velvet stage curtain dividing for a grand performance.

“Andreas, wait, would you like a Popsicle?” I shout from the front door. The radiance of his smile can surely be seen in the next block over.

“Strawberry or apple today?” I race to the freezer, grab two icy strawberry pleasures, and enthusiastically anticipate the great tales I am about to encounter. “What was the best part of school today?” Knowing the answer from previous inquires, I ask to simply begin the protocol of our conversations.

“Lunch and recess”.

“Anything new at recess today?”

“We chased the girls again but one got away.”

“How did that happen?”

“She learned the leg swipe. I don’t understand how she learned the leg swipe.”

Note, for those who are not in first grade, the leg swipe is a sophisticated move that Andreas created where you spin and simultaneously swing your leg to scare off any attackers.

“Well, my guess is she watched you do it many times and then learned it.”

“Ohhhh. But she is a girl.”

“Did you know that girls are really smart? They learn really quickly.”

“Ohhh. OK. Now I understand how she did the leg swipe.”

And hence we greedily lick our melting delicacies, we giggle, we listen to birds, we watch the silly squirrels, we easily sway our legs in rhythm, and occasionally crash into the faithful crabapple shading us from behind.

And once again I sigh, I breathe a little lighter, I feel the flood waters rise from my shoulders, and with great certainty tell myself, this is the highlight of my day. Living life through the world of a carefree six year old who delights in an autumn afternoon, a tattered porch swing and a friend next door who serves store bought Popsicles.

And I learn day by day to delight in an invitation to life not an interruption of my day.

Each day God my Father whispers my name, Christ his Son sits near my side and the gentle Holy Spirit sways around me, to bring me into Their presence. Each day I have a choice to go and sit, swing and delight, laugh and learn from the seat of love, grace, and peace. The invitation is tender, the minutes are precious, and the curtain quickly splits to unveil a treasure far greater than I know; which my soul needs.

The more we enjoy the presence of Christ the more we understand the stark contrast between an interruption of our driven day and His invitation for conversation, refreshment, and joy. At first it seems so hard to decipher but like so many challenges the more we practice, the easier it becomes.

Come, my children, listen to me; I will teach you the fear of the LORD. Psalm 34:11 Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.” Mark 6:31