Rescue Hero

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In his delightful book, Somewhere More Holy, Tony Woodlief  reminds us that God speaks in countless ways. As parents, we have the unique privilege of hearing His echo in the words of our children. “He doesn’t always pronounce judgement in a King James voice, you know,” Tony points out, “Sometimes God is in the whisper of a little boy.

 
This week, will you join me in listening for the whispers? Let’s ask God to open our ears to the truth that reverberates above the clatter of our dinner tables, the chanting in our mini-vans, and the deafening monotony of our ordinary days. I’ll share a few of the echoes I’ve savored lately, and I’d be blessed if you would, too! Leave your story as a comment and we’ll rejoice together in the creative ways that our Creator speaks to mommies.
 
God to the Rescue
 

Not long ago,  I was playing Rescue Heroes with Joshua on a cold rainy day.  We had strewn the Fisher Price action figures across the living room and had concocted our very own “emergency” atop of the wrinkly leather chair in the corner. The situation was undeniably grim. A young woman (a favorite Happy Meal toy) was trapped in an avalanche. Cold and alone, she cried for help.  Pinned beneath paper-wad boulders, poor Blondie needed a hero. 

 
The siren on Joshua’s fire truck alerted the troops to the problem on Mount Mama’s Chair. One by one, the mighty men were hurried to the scene.  Old-Timer Billy Blaze was first to arrive. With been-there-done-that wisdom, the famous fire fighter scurried up the leather mountain and assured the damsel in distress that he would set her free. But after much grunting and groaning, the old chief grabbed his walkie talkie and rallied more help. 


A dune buggy full of buddies arrived next, propelled by the slender fingers of an excited four-year-old. Ben Chopin, Perry Medic, and Wendy Waters tossed ropes and tools toward the mountain top. They flexed their plastic muscles and conferred with Headquarters on their hand-held walkie talkies.  Despite their grand efforts, the trapped monarch remained stuck. 
 
Soon more reinforcements soared to the scene in a siren–wailing jet. Jack Hammer, Gil Gripper, and Jake Justice kicked paper debris, chopped with whirring tools and heaved with all their might. Still the heavy boulders barely budged.  Finally, not a single Rescue Hero remained in the box. Joshua waved Rip Rockafellar in the air and in his best strong-man voice, my panicked preschooler hollered, “We need MORE help!”  
 
 “Buddy, we’re all out of heroes,” I whispered, trying to remain a backdrop in the dramatic scene. I pointed to the empty plastic box that held the action figures when they retired each night to the toy closet. “There aren’t any more left.” 
 

Josh stepped back quietly and studied the spectacle. His eyes darted from the trapped doll to the strapping strong men that surrounded her. Finally, he waved Billy Blaze in the air, and in his best man-voice, my four- year-old commanded, Call in GAWD. We need a REAL SUPERHERO!”

 
Josh made a sound like rushing wind as he blew spittle and air through his pursed lips. Instantly, the little plastic figures were infused with new strength. With shouts of joy, the tough and buff heroes tossed those paper boulders off of the grateful blonde beauty.  Plastic Princess jumped up and did her signature happy dance, while the play wright’s Mommy broke into shameless applause.  Once she was settled into the bright red fire truck and safely on her way to the couch-cushion recovery center, the rescued Miss waved her hands toward the sky and declared through the high-pitched voice of a precious little boy, Thanks for helping, Gawd. I just KNEW you’d come!” 
 
My eyes dripped as I recognized my Savior’s echo. “I will lead you to a place of safety;
I will rescue you because I delight in you.” (Psalm 18:19) As I watched my littlest boy tenderly wrap Barbie’s broken leg with a Kleenex, I pondered my own emergency plan. When I am pinned by boulders of discouragement, trapped beneath an avalanche of my own failure or pride, whom do I call?  Is it my well-intentioned friends and family, quick to come to my aid, but not equipped to set me free. Or is it the One who has proclaimed throughout eternity that He can? I love a Savior Who can proclaim His strength from the mountaintops or  whisper it through shiny plastic heroes. Surely faith, as summed up by our resident Barbie doll, is crying for help and then choosing to believe that He will come. 




The Overflow:  But me he caught—reached all the way
      from sky to sea; he pulled me out
   Of that ocean of hate, that enemy chaos,
      the void in which I was drowning.
   They hit me when I was down,
      but 
God stuck by me.
   He stood me up on a wide-open field;
      I stood there saved—surprised to be loved! -Psalm 18:19, The Message
Alicia

2 Comments

  1. I think your son should move into my home for a while. I need someone besides me crying out for a SLOW DOWN! Hope your writer’s conference was great.

  2. Alycia Morales says:

    I loved this story, Alicia! It’s amazing how often we can hear God’s voice through our children, if we only stop to listen.

    My eldest son has a habit of saying things that may sound accusatory to an outsider, but to me, they sound like God telling me to stop, slow down, and take some one-on-one time with Him and my kids.

    Thanks again!

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