Why Play Is Important
“The way we live is profoundly shaped by our picture of God.”
When my father was little he didn’t have toys; he had work.
He worked hard, he worked long, he worked well. And he taught me how to work too.
To work hard. To work long. To work well.
I will be ever grateful for the heritage of hard work my dad passed on to me. He elevated work to an art form, showing by example the joy that comes in achievement.
Yet somewhere along the way to adulthood, I managed to twist Dad’s life lessons into something more than valuing work— now I find myself all too often caught in our current culture’s belief that my value comes from my work.
And I see the havoc that way of thinking has played in my now-adult children’s lives: Comers work. Comers work hard and well and fast and efficiently.
To learn to rest has required heroic struggle for each of our kids. John Mark wrote a book about work and calling and… rest. Beks is trying to figure out how to have a life and still run a successful business. Elizabeth struggles to find balance with perfectionism. Matt— arguably the least striven of us all— often works himself to exhaustion while “playing” as a youth pastor. All. The. Time.
I know without a doubt that my kids will pass on the value of work to their kids— no worries there.
But might there be more? More than working ourselves to the point of collapse, barely skirting the edges of burnout?
What are we telling our kids when they see the cycle of work, crabby collapse, get up to work more?
Dare I say we might well be communicating the lie that God is a tyrannical Task-master, cracking the whip on lazy practices like leisurely walks and days without getting things done? That we are inadvertently whispering to the next generation that their value to God is in their super-achievement?
And I’m asking these questions of myself. Having just wrapped up a long season of working hard to get Raising Passionate Jesus Followers: the power of intentional parenting into the hands of parents, I’m tired. Happy tired, for sure, but also alarmingly unproductive.
I should be washing my windows, organizing my office, setting goals, working!
I should catch up on my emails, learn to take decent photos, go paperless, make appointments for those long delayed check-ups, go to that meeting, clean the garage…
Yikes!
Yesterday I didn’t do one thing on my Should-Do list. I didn’t work hard or efficiently or well. Instead I spent the day in the most Kingdom advancing way possible: I played with my Grand-girls.
We wandered thru Portland’s charming Sellwood district, both girls giggling more than talking. We laughed together about the photo I posted on Instagram— colorful and happy, but with their feet chopped off (see Should-Do list). And for a few moments we imagined how hard it would be to not have feet, about kids caught in the crossfires of war…
The shopkeeper in the vintage shop showed us her teacups, treating the girls like visiting royalty instead of two wiggly-disaster-waiting-to-happen girls in her glass filled shop. After long consideration, they each chose one to bring back to my house for our tea sipping talks about everything and nothing.
We waited in line for a long time for ice cream cones and when it was finally our turn, the shopkeeper remarked on our big smiles… which brought more rounds of giggles. Deep pink strawberry with sprinkles and orange blossom with mint dripped down the creases of their happiness.
I wanted to freeze time.
My Grand-girls don’t have Should-Do lists— they have moments. Moments of beauty and delight, of laughter and joy. And moments of sadness too, that wars would tear limbs from children’s bodies.
And all I could see through our whole unproductive day was the Father’s pleasure in His children. That He loves the way they relish colors— those pink blossoms for us to smell and see, the rainbow sprinkles on ice cream, a bright purple wall.
I sensed His delight in cousins who admire the beauty of each other’s skin, pinky white right up against deep mahogany. And the tear running down His face as we dove into the sadness of others.
I can’t help but wonder if… all of us too-busy Believers would stop more often to play the day away, maybe more kids would grow up wanting what we have.
And if… all us made-in-His-image followers would value the beauty in every child, maybe our kids would grow up to value every one; to love their neighbors as themselves.
I’m back this morning to my Should-Do’s, filling in my calendar at a pace that allows for play. Because somehow I think my Grands will be better shaped by a view of God they see lived out in me. A God who sings and laughs and eats good food with friends.
A God who loves to see His children play.
From my heart,
Diane
P.S. Okay, how do you play? Better yet, how would you suggest I play with my Grands? I’m ready to learn but fresh out of ideas.