What a Great Day

Spencer has been home from school today with a nasty case of strep throat.

"What's so great about that?" you may wonder. I'll tell you... God does His best work through difficult and odd situations.

This morning I was supposed to go to Bible Study Fellowship, but Spencer had been clutching his throat and crying since yesterday evening. No fever, though, so I planned to send him on to school with my normal advice: Try to make it until after noon so you won't have an absence counted against you. Then call me if you need me to pick you up.

But Bruce looked inside Spencer's throat and said, "He should not go to school."

I sent an e-mail to Spencer's teacher and called my discussion leader at BSF to tell her I wasn't going to make it. But I decided to swing by the church where BSF is held after dropping off Clay and Allison at school to pick up my study notes for the upcoming week instead of having my discussion leader mail them to me.

On the way to school, we all started talking about my grandpa, who is 91 years old and has spent the last month in a rehabilitation center getting physical therapy after a stint in the hospital for pneumonia. Grandpa should be going home this week, which will be good. He has had no phone access while in the rehab center, so I haven't heard from him since I visited him in the hospital. Grandpa rarely lets a week go by without calling.

The kids and I talked about some other health issues that the doctors discovered while grandpa was hospitalized. Issues that will go untreated because of grandpa's age and the belief that to treat might actually jeopardize his life.

Clay had already told me when grandpa was first hospitalized that, should grandpa die, he wanted to go to the funeral. He's processing and preparing himself for the loss the best way a 9-year-old can.

This morning we talked about death, funerals, illness.

After I dropped Clay and Allison at school, Spencer said he also wanted to go to grandpa's funeral when the time comes.

My grandpa is a Christian and the kids know that. Spencer said that he would be sad when grandpa died, but he knew that grandpa would dance in heaven with Jesus. I said he sure would and that it'd been a long time since grandpa had danced. (If ever. I've never seen him dance. But maybe he was a romantic at one time when my grandmother was still alive. I doubt it. He seems more like he would have been a player before my grandmother settled him down!)

We paused in our talk for a bit. And then...

"Mom, when can I become a Christian?"

This may seem out of the blue, but it's not. Spencer has talked about this at least once a week since before I took him to see our previous pastor back in April. He's been so very close for so long.

But I hesitated.

In my human mother heart, I think, "If ever there was a child who needed Jesus, it's this wild child, this turn-on-a-dime emotional roller coaster redhead, this bold bundle of sweetness clashing with sass." Not that all people don't need Jesus in the same dire way.

I don't want to rush him, because I don't want him plagued with doubts later. I asked Jesus into my heart when I was 20. I have no doubts. I know what I was. I know what I am.

I also don't want to have unfair expectations of this child especially. When Clay asked questions about Jesus at the ripe age of 3, I thought it unusual. But he is a deep thinker, so when he wanted to ask Jesus into his heart as a 5 year old, I was hesitant, but less uncertain.

Clay is a manageable child. Always has been.

Spencer is a whirlwind. Always has been.

I don't want to expect Spencer to have a vastly different nature as a 7 year old new Christian, because I'm not sure that's reasonable. I know I became a completely changed person, but I was a mess. And I was an adult, capable of understanding much more.

Still, Jesus said to come to him like a little child.

Ironically, Bruce and I just said last night that we wondered if we were wrongly holding Spencer back.

So when Spencer asked in the van this morning, I said, "You can become a Christian whenever you're ready."

"I'm ready right now," he said.

I asked him more questions, until I felt he truly understood. Then I said, "Let's pray, but I have to pull this van over."

"Mom," he said, "you can just pray with your eyes open."

Yes. Yes, I can.

So I led him in a prayer. And he asked Jesus to forgive his sins, to come into his heart, and to help him live for Him from now on.

He had the biggest smile on his face when we said, "Amen". And then I noticed that he was blinking. A lot.

That sweet pea was nearly weeping.

But he was pleased as punch.

I took him in the church with me to get my BSF notes and he told a friend we saw, who was in my group last year, that he had just asked Jesus into his heart. As I was pulling out of the parking lot, I saw my discussion leader, so I stopped to get out to tell her I'd gotten my notes, and before I got out, Spencer said, "Will you tell her I just asked Jesus into my heart?"

He wanted to go tell our new preacher right then, too. But I thought that as new members of the church it would not bode well if we passed on some strep to the pastor. I did call him, though, to share the news.

Later, Spencer told our pediatrician about his decision. Our pediatrician is a Christian man, and our kids love him. When Spencer told him, the doctor told Spencer they were brothers now and then he held out his fist and said, "Give me a bump on that." So they bumped fists. He even told Spencer a little bit about when he became a Christian.

It's just been a great day.

The only hitch... that twin factor. Allison cried when Spencer told her and Clay when they got home from school. And she said, "I'm never going to get to be a Christian." ARGH!

And now, as I type this, I hear Spencer, fussing because his siblings don't want to play with his streppy old self. There is stomping going on. Balled fists. Scrunched up face.

A teachable moment for him about that elusive fruit of the spirit... self control.

A teachable reminder for me that God doesn't expect us to come to him perfect. We're works in progress.