Slow Club
I hate to be late. I don’t like to show up at ballgames and miss the national anthem. It makes me crazy.
I also hate to wait. When my kids and I are getting ready to go somewhere, when I’m ready to go… I’m ready to go. Most of them though don’t seem to have this trait. In fact, they seem to LIKE doing things at the last second. Which usually just drives me up the wall. I end up saying things like “If you aren’t ready in 2 minutes I’m just going to leave without you!!” Which is dumb, because the only reason I’m going out anyway is to take them to school or something…
When I say I want to leave at 12, it usually means that I want to leave at 11:45. To them it means sometime between 12:00 and 1:00.
And don’t even get me started on “fast food”. You ever go thru a drive-thru and they ask you to “pull up and we’ll bring your food out to you”? What I want to say is NO, I think I’ll wait right here so you don’t forget about me AGAIN. I wish I could be more like me sister sometimes… I think she is the only one in the family who will tell them no.
When I was at the National Youth Worker’s Convention, Mark Yaconelli, told a story about his son Joseph.
He talked about a time when he was in charge of getting his kids ready for school. The school was right by his office and only a block from his house, so the mornings would be hectic as he tried to get their lunches ready, school uniforms on, shoes on and get them out the door in time, which was rare.. so most mornings they would be rushing down the sidewalk and his 4 year old Joseph would be dragging along… Mark would be trying to hurry him up and Joseph would stop and say something like “ooo dad, look at this rock!” and stop and bend down to examine it… Mark would go back and get him to hurry him up, only to have him stop to examine a cool looking stick or something… all the way to school.
One day at dinner, his son announced that he had formed a club. Called Slow Club.
In Slow Club there are only 2 rules. You cannot run and you cannot hurry. His parents asked him if anyone else was in his club. “nope, just me, I’m the president”
The next morning, the usual routine is going on, Mark frantically rushing around trying to get things ready, and they are rushing off to school… all except Joseph who is slowly walking up the sidewalk… Mark tells his to hurry up and he responds calmly “Dad, I’m president of Slow Club. I don’t hurry” So Mark ends up walking slowly with him because his son is the “president”.
from Mark’s website:
One summer while I was teaching at a youth camp, Joseph granted me a one-day membership to his club. After playing ultimate Frisbee with a group of teenagers, the bell rang for lunch. The kids bolted toward the dining hall. Joseph had been watching the game, so I ran over to him, put on my sweatshirt, grabbed his hand, and began pulling him hastily behind the group. I was hungry and wanted to get a place in line. Joseph reminded me, however, that I'd accepted his one-day club membership and would need to reduce my speed drastically. I took a deep breath and reluctantly slowed to my son's pace. Joseph looked at me satisfied, and then said, "You see, Dad, when you slow down, you notice things. Just look around as we walk, and you'll see things everyone else has missed." Quietly we strolled through the campground, looking carefully at our surroundings. Suddenly, I saw something move off to the side of the path. "Joseph!" I whispered excitedly. "Look over there." He turned, and we both saw two jackrabbits, standing on their hind legs, watching us. Joseph gave me a knowing smile and said, "I bet we're the only ones who noticed those rabbits." We walked on, stopping to look at butterflies, strange purple wildflowers, enormous beetles, and a lizard with half a tail. When we joined the rest of the family, we both talked excitedly about the treasures we'd seen.
Part of the Advent season is waiting. But we get caught up in the rush of Christmas. I remember when I was growing up, Christmas seemed to take forever to get to. Do you remember that? Nowadays, it seems like one day its Halloween, the next its Thanksgiving and the next its Christmas.
The rush of the season reminds me of a passage from the book of Job…
God's wisdom is so deep, God's power so immense,
who could take him on and come out in one piece?
He moves mountains before they know what's happened,
flips them on their heads on a whim.
He gives the earth a good shaking up,
rocks it down to its very foundations.
He tells the sun, 'Don't shine,' and it doesn't;
he pulls the blinds on the stars.
All by himself he stretches out the heavens
and strides on the waves of the sea.
He designed the Big Dipper and Orion,
the Pleiades and Alpha Centauri.
We'll never comprehend all the great things he does;
his miracle-surprises can't be counted.
Somehow, though he moves right in front of me, I don't see him.
I’m reminded by another story from Mark Yaconelli’s father, Mike… from the book Dangerous Wonder:
This is a story of a young girl who ended up breaking the rules, rejecting the expectations of all around her, because she loved with abandon. Last year, my young son played t-ball.... needless to say, I was delighted! Now, on the other team there was a girl I will call Tracy. Tracy came each week. I know, since my son's team always played her team. She was not very good. She had coke-bottle glasses and hearing aids on each ear. She ran in a loping, carefree way, with one leg pulling after the other, one arm wind milling wildly in the air. Everyone in the bleachers cheered for her, regardless of what team their progeny played for. In all the games I saw, she never hit the ball, not even close. It sat there on a tee waiting to be hit and it never was. Sometimes, after ten or eleven swings, Tracy hit the tee (in t-ball, the ball sits on a plastic tee, waiting for the batter to hit the ball, which happens once every three batters). The ball would fall off the tee and sit on the ground six inches in front of home plate. "Run! Run!" yelled Tracy’s coach, and Tracy would lope off to first, clutching the bat in both arms, smiling. Someone usually woke up and ran her down with the ball before she would reach first. Everyone applauded.
The last game of the season, Tracy came up, and through some fluke, or simply in a nod toward the law of averages, she creamed the ball. She smoked it right up the middle, through the legs of seventeen players. Kids dodged as it went by or looked absentmindedly at it as it rolled unstopped, seemingly gaining in speed, hopping over second base, heading into center field. And once it reached there, there was no one to stop it. Have I told you there are no outfielders in t-ball?
There are for three minutes in the beginning of every inning, but then they move into the infield to be close to the action, or, at least, to their friends. Tracy hit the ball and stood at home, delighted. "Run!" yelled her coach. "Run!" All the parents, all of us, we stood and screamed, "run Tracy, run, run!" Tracy turned and smiled at us, and then happy to please, galumphed off to first. The first base coach waved his arms 'round and 'round when Tracy stopped at first. "Keep going, Tracy, keep going! Go!" Happy to please, she headed to second. By the time she was half way to second, seven members of the opposition had reached the ball and were passing it among themselves. It's a rule in t-ball...everyone on the defending team has to touch every ball. The ball began to make its long and circuitous route toward home plate, passing from one side of the field to the other. Tracy headed to third. Adults fell off the bleachers. "Go, Tracy, go!"
Tracy reached third and stopped, but the parents were very close to her now and she got the message. Her coach stood at home plate calling her as the ball passed over the first baseman's head and landed in the fielding team's empty dugout. "Come on Tracy! Come on, baby! Get a home run!"
Tracy started for home, and then it happened. During the pandemonium, no one had noticed the twelve-year-old geriatric mutt that had lazily settled itself down in front of the bleachers five feet from the third-base line. As Tracy rounded third, the dog awakened by the screaming, sat up and wagged its tail at Tracy as she headed down the line. The tongue hung out, mouth pulled back in an unmistakably canine smile, and Tracy stopped, right there - halfway home, thirty feet from a legitimate home run. She looked at the dog. Her coach called, "come on, Tracy! Come on home!" he went to his knees, behind the plate, pleading. The crowd cheered, "Go, Tracy, go!" She looked at all the adults, at her own parents shrieking and catching it all on video. She looked at the dog. The dog wagged its tail. She looked at her coach. She looked at home. She looked at the dog. Everything went into slow motion. She went for the dog! It was a moment of complete, stunned
silence.
The next few days, I challenge you to join Slow Club.
I have a Slow Club T-Shirt and I wore it to Wal-Mart the other day and the elderly greeter at the front said “you better watch trying to slow some of down around here, if we went any slower we’d just stop…
Take a look around . Watch for the God Moments in your life.
Don’t let God move right in front of you while you are chasing after something that really isn’t going to matter.
I hate to be late. I don’t like to show up at ballgames and miss the national anthem. It makes me crazy.
I also hate to wait. When my kids and I are getting ready to go somewhere, when I’m ready to go… I’m ready to go. Most of them though don’t seem to have this trait. In fact, they seem to LIKE doing things at the last second. Which usually just drives me up the wall. I end up saying things like “If you aren’t ready in 2 minutes I’m just going to leave without you!!” Which is dumb, because the only reason I’m going out anyway is to take them to school or something…
When I say I want to leave at 12, it usually means that I want to leave at 11:45. To them it means sometime between 12:00 and 1:00.
And don’t even get me started on “fast food”. You ever go thru a drive-thru and they ask you to “pull up and we’ll bring your food out to you”? What I want to say is NO, I think I’ll wait right here so you don’t forget about me AGAIN. I wish I could be more like me sister sometimes… I think she is the only one in the family who will tell them no.
When I was at the National Youth Worker’s Convention, Mark Yaconelli, told a story about his son Joseph.
He talked about a time when he was in charge of getting his kids ready for school. The school was right by his office and only a block from his house, so the mornings would be hectic as he tried to get their lunches ready, school uniforms on, shoes on and get them out the door in time, which was rare.. so most mornings they would be rushing down the sidewalk and his 4 year old Joseph would be dragging along… Mark would be trying to hurry him up and Joseph would stop and say something like “ooo dad, look at this rock!” and stop and bend down to examine it… Mark would go back and get him to hurry him up, only to have him stop to examine a cool looking stick or something… all the way to school.
One day at dinner, his son announced that he had formed a club. Called Slow Club.
In Slow Club there are only 2 rules. You cannot run and you cannot hurry. His parents asked him if anyone else was in his club. “nope, just me, I’m the president”
The next morning, the usual routine is going on, Mark frantically rushing around trying to get things ready, and they are rushing off to school… all except Joseph who is slowly walking up the sidewalk… Mark tells his to hurry up and he responds calmly “Dad, I’m president of Slow Club. I don’t hurry” So Mark ends up walking slowly with him because his son is the “president”.
from Mark’s website:
One summer while I was teaching at a youth camp, Joseph granted me a one-day membership to his club. After playing ultimate Frisbee with a group of teenagers, the bell rang for lunch. The kids bolted toward the dining hall. Joseph had been watching the game, so I ran over to him, put on my sweatshirt, grabbed his hand, and began pulling him hastily behind the group. I was hungry and wanted to get a place in line. Joseph reminded me, however, that I'd accepted his one-day club membership and would need to reduce my speed drastically. I took a deep breath and reluctantly slowed to my son's pace. Joseph looked at me satisfied, and then said, "You see, Dad, when you slow down, you notice things. Just look around as we walk, and you'll see things everyone else has missed." Quietly we strolled through the campground, looking carefully at our surroundings. Suddenly, I saw something move off to the side of the path. "Joseph!" I whispered excitedly. "Look over there." He turned, and we both saw two jackrabbits, standing on their hind legs, watching us. Joseph gave me a knowing smile and said, "I bet we're the only ones who noticed those rabbits." We walked on, stopping to look at butterflies, strange purple wildflowers, enormous beetles, and a lizard with half a tail. When we joined the rest of the family, we both talked excitedly about the treasures we'd seen.
Part of the Advent season is waiting. But we get caught up in the rush of Christmas. I remember when I was growing up, Christmas seemed to take forever to get to. Do you remember that? Nowadays, it seems like one day its Halloween, the next its Thanksgiving and the next its Christmas.
The rush of the season reminds me of a passage from the book of Job…
God's wisdom is so deep, God's power so immense,
who could take him on and come out in one piece?
He moves mountains before they know what's happened,
flips them on their heads on a whim.
He gives the earth a good shaking up,
rocks it down to its very foundations.
He tells the sun, 'Don't shine,' and it doesn't;
he pulls the blinds on the stars.
All by himself he stretches out the heavens
and strides on the waves of the sea.
He designed the Big Dipper and Orion,
the Pleiades and Alpha Centauri.
We'll never comprehend all the great things he does;
his miracle-surprises can't be counted.
Somehow, though he moves right in front of me, I don't see him.
I’m reminded by another story from Mark Yaconelli’s father, Mike… from the book Dangerous Wonder:
This is a story of a young girl who ended up breaking the rules, rejecting the expectations of all around her, because she loved with abandon. Last year, my young son played t-ball.... needless to say, I was delighted! Now, on the other team there was a girl I will call Tracy. Tracy came each week. I know, since my son's team always played her team. She was not very good. She had coke-bottle glasses and hearing aids on each ear. She ran in a loping, carefree way, with one leg pulling after the other, one arm wind milling wildly in the air. Everyone in the bleachers cheered for her, regardless of what team their progeny played for. In all the games I saw, she never hit the ball, not even close. It sat there on a tee waiting to be hit and it never was. Sometimes, after ten or eleven swings, Tracy hit the tee (in t-ball, the ball sits on a plastic tee, waiting for the batter to hit the ball, which happens once every three batters). The ball would fall off the tee and sit on the ground six inches in front of home plate. "Run! Run!" yelled Tracy’s coach, and Tracy would lope off to first, clutching the bat in both arms, smiling. Someone usually woke up and ran her down with the ball before she would reach first. Everyone applauded.
The last game of the season, Tracy came up, and through some fluke, or simply in a nod toward the law of averages, she creamed the ball. She smoked it right up the middle, through the legs of seventeen players. Kids dodged as it went by or looked absentmindedly at it as it rolled unstopped, seemingly gaining in speed, hopping over second base, heading into center field. And once it reached there, there was no one to stop it. Have I told you there are no outfielders in t-ball?
There are for three minutes in the beginning of every inning, but then they move into the infield to be close to the action, or, at least, to their friends. Tracy hit the ball and stood at home, delighted. "Run!" yelled her coach. "Run!" All the parents, all of us, we stood and screamed, "run Tracy, run, run!" Tracy turned and smiled at us, and then happy to please, galumphed off to first. The first base coach waved his arms 'round and 'round when Tracy stopped at first. "Keep going, Tracy, keep going! Go!" Happy to please, she headed to second. By the time she was half way to second, seven members of the opposition had reached the ball and were passing it among themselves. It's a rule in t-ball...everyone on the defending team has to touch every ball. The ball began to make its long and circuitous route toward home plate, passing from one side of the field to the other. Tracy headed to third. Adults fell off the bleachers. "Go, Tracy, go!"
Tracy reached third and stopped, but the parents were very close to her now and she got the message. Her coach stood at home plate calling her as the ball passed over the first baseman's head and landed in the fielding team's empty dugout. "Come on Tracy! Come on, baby! Get a home run!"
Tracy started for home, and then it happened. During the pandemonium, no one had noticed the twelve-year-old geriatric mutt that had lazily settled itself down in front of the bleachers five feet from the third-base line. As Tracy rounded third, the dog awakened by the screaming, sat up and wagged its tail at Tracy as she headed down the line. The tongue hung out, mouth pulled back in an unmistakably canine smile, and Tracy stopped, right there - halfway home, thirty feet from a legitimate home run. She looked at the dog. Her coach called, "come on, Tracy! Come on home!" he went to his knees, behind the plate, pleading. The crowd cheered, "Go, Tracy, go!" She looked at all the adults, at her own parents shrieking and catching it all on video. She looked at the dog. The dog wagged its tail. She looked at her coach. She looked at home. She looked at the dog. Everything went into slow motion. She went for the dog! It was a moment of complete, stunned
silence.
The next few days, I challenge you to join Slow Club.
I have a Slow Club T-Shirt and I wore it to Wal-Mart the other day and the elderly greeter at the front said “you better watch trying to slow some of down around here, if we went any slower we’d just stop…
Take a look around . Watch for the God Moments in your life.
Don’t let God move right in front of you while you are chasing after something that really isn’t going to matter.
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