To be a human being is to have an interior life. And there are some things you will say only to the one person in the world you love best, or maybe only to God.
When I was a little kid building structures with blocks, one of my older brother's teenage friends told me that a really interesting structure had to have a "secret compartment" designed in. So I would dutifully structure the blocks around such a gap where I would "secrete" (there you go, Mrs. Wu!) a small treasure with value only to myself, maybe a Matchbox toy car. Outwardly it was undetectable, but only I knew there was more to the structure than met the eye. But then I was so proud of it I would show everyone where it was.... Not a great keeper of secrets. Oh well. I had to pick up the blocks by the end of the day, so the secret wouldn't have lasted.
Being one of six kids in a three bedroom house (with one working bathroom) there weren’t many secrets, in fact we had exactly one permitted secret. Journals were sacred. Neither parents nor siblings would cross that line. A constant refuge for prayer, processing and creativity.
Our 3-year-old grandson Carter has recently begun whispering when he speaks to us. It is almost always quite obvious information. At first it was merely a funny development, but (being a serious introvert myself), I realized that something deep within him tells him that by whispering he draws his listener in closer, creating an intimacy that is important to him even subconsciously. I'm sure there is a sermon in there somewhere.
We need little children, don't we, to draw our attention to things we have grown up and forgotten to notice anymore. God bless little Carter with the gift of retaining that childlike heart.
When I was a little kid building structures with blocks, one of my older brother's teenage friends told me that a really interesting structure had to have a "secret compartment" designed in. So I would dutifully structure the blocks around such a gap where I would "secrete" (there you go, Mrs. Wu!) a small treasure with value only to myself, maybe a Matchbox toy car. Outwardly it was undetectable, but only I knew there was more to the structure than met the eye. But then I was so proud of it I would show everyone where it was.... Not a great keeper of secrets. Oh well. I had to pick up the blocks by the end of the day, so the secret wouldn't have lasted.
Being one of six kids in a three bedroom house (with one working bathroom) there weren’t many secrets, in fact we had exactly one permitted secret. Journals were sacred. Neither parents nor siblings would cross that line. A constant refuge for prayer, processing and creativity.
And then there is the word ‘secrete…….’
There's the very form of the noun, secret, a word no one any longer uses as a verb meaning to hide.
I challenge myself to use that abandoned verb this week, nay, this day!
I shall secrete a cookie on my plate at suppertime.
I shall secrete some scented soap in the sock drawer.
My mother secreted this note into the book which she gave me……❤️
So, so good.
Our 3-year-old grandson Carter has recently begun whispering when he speaks to us. It is almost always quite obvious information. At first it was merely a funny development, but (being a serious introvert myself), I realized that something deep within him tells him that by whispering he draws his listener in closer, creating an intimacy that is important to him even subconsciously. I'm sure there is a sermon in there somewhere.
We need little children, don't we, to draw our attention to things we have grown up and forgotten to notice anymore. God bless little Carter with the gift of retaining that childlike heart.