It’s summertime. The thermometer says 92°. On many days, the humidity is vying to win first place on the misery chart. Today, I opened the door to let the dog out and felt as if I were inhaling soup. Perhaps it’s a sign to work in my cool basement office.
I remember summer nights when I was young. Screened windows were open and fans whirred stirring hot air. (Do people even have screens on their windows today?) When I was a bit older, bedroom windows donned air-conditioners. They’d rattle and shiver and always drip, but they were a luxury we relished when August was in full swing.
Occasionally, on sultry nights, when dogs barked at bike riders and the crickets were primed for their nightly concert, my parents would surprise us.
“Climb in the car, kids. Let’s get an ice-cream.”
Flip-flops (or thongs as we called them then) slapped the driveway as we ran for the back of the station wagon. We’d drive 10 miles to the nearest ice-cream parlor. No thirty-one flavors but perhaps eight. No fancy dipped waffle cones here, just ones labeled sugar or cupcake. We never heard of gelato or sorbet. There weren’t endless bins of toppings, but the teenager behind the counter could sure pile on the syrups and whipped cream and if you were lucky, two cherries.
We would sit under glaring florescent lights on benches out front with the cold creamy dessert threatening to drip down our arms. Mom would rewrap our cones with endless napkins as we delicately licked the perimeter of the cone. There was an art to eating an ice-cream cone. The drips always determined the method. Some daring eaters would stick the whole top in their mouth and pull it out slowly making a curly cue on top. I tended to be the circle licker. Tilting my head and extending my tongue, I’d twirl the cone round and round smoothing the edges of the ice-cream. Regardless of the method, we savored the treat. I never remember seeing anyone biting and gulping down a cone in record time. What would be the point? Where would the enjoyment lie in that?
Here is my “connect-the-dot” moment. That moment where God provides a memory, an illustration and then connects it for me.
- How often do I gulp down my time with him? Do I gobble his Word or do I savor it? Do I stop when something strikes me or do I quickly plow ahead feeling a need to finish? Do I feel a nudge that He wants me to explore, but ignore it?
- Wouldn’t I do better to savor it like I did the cone? What if I take time to linger on a word or phrase that stops me? I could pray using the scripture even reciting it back to him. I could make it just for me. Just in time. It might become a message from God to me that follows me throughout my day. If I were to stop and savor, I might enjoy each moment feeling refreshed and “treated.” To taste and see that the Lord is good.
Maybe today I’ll indulge and order a double scoop.
Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.