“Autumn! Get those pants back up, right this minute!”
When eight pre-school children of four young missionary couples (two M.K.s per household) suddenly go quiet in their outdoor play, the concern of parents increases by degree. First, an observation by a mom whose voice barely masks a growing angst.
“Anyone notice the kids aren’t making any noise?”
From here all the earlier conversation, random banter, interchanges of whatever among the parents, trails off. Anxious thoughts roll in, We’re in Black Mamba country. . . What if they’ve wandered off down by the trees and. . .
In this instance, as it turned out, we didn’t need to worry of strayed children.
Little Autumn’s father had stepped across the living room in which we adults had all been relaxing. Peering out an elevated window, he spotted the little ones. Our children stood in a circle beneath a Frangipani tree at the house’s edge, surveying from a distance curiosities of the human anatomy.
Parents, especially the moms, sprang for the outside doors. They had, just prior to the alarming shout, entered into a quietly reverent prayer time. So much for that. . .
In days following, the mommies and daddies regaled one another with their reactions and those of their urchins.
“Mark, did you lower your pants out there before the others?”
“No mommy”, he moaned. “I tried, but I couldn’t get them to unbutton.”
Sarah, one of the other mom’s present, shared on another occasion a special nugget of wisdom. Noting the useful role humor carries in the sometimes overburdening work of international missions.
“He who laughs lasts.”
©2018 Jerry Lout