As a kid, the most exciting winter mornings were ones waking up to fresh snow. And as you anxiously watched the neighbors try to dig out their cars, you kept up the hope that the snow would continue. As you slowly got ready for school, you listened to the radio, my parents always had WOR on, listening to see if Scotch Plains was listed in the school closings. We did have an advantage, as my dad was a teacher, and would get a phone call, but hearing it on the radio, well-that was music to our ears! And then I would call Bruce and Barry, Scottie, Chris Farley, and the phone chain would pass on the magic words we all had waited for-SCHOOL'S CANCELLED! And skipping breakfast, we would get the many layers of clothes on, which could only be done with help from your mother. As you put on long underwear, two pairs of jeans, two sweaters, and three pairs of socks, and finally those tacky, old rubber boots, with the metal closures that would freeze, you would need your mother's help. And 30 minutes later you were ready to ride! Mittens, not gloves, and you were off with your Flexible Flyer, across Hetfield Avenue to the woods behind Raymond Schmitke's house. Where now it is New York Avenue, and houses, as a kid this was the woods, a great place for a kid growing up. In the summer, a place to play war, build a fort-tree or underground, or ride our bikes on the dirt paths. But when it snowed, it came alive-as it was the only place in the neighborhood with a hill big enough to sleigh ride!
Over the years, we had worn in three runs. One was straight down hill, fast, but short, and used mostly while impatiently waiting in line for your turn on the other two. You didn't want to waste even a few minutes waiting for your ride on the white stuff. Right next to it, but running at 90 degrees, was a longer run, that actually went across where New York Avenue would eventually be, and along a creek, and ending up almost in the backyards on Jersey Avenue. But the long one, the skilled run, started at the top of the hills, and curved to the left. Going downhill quickly, you would gather speed, and then a hard right onto the long ride. This was no bunny run to a 10 year old kid. It took skill to steer a sled then, and those of use who were older, 10-12, would do this sitting, and steering with our feet, sometimes with a passenger. One big push from our friends, and we were off. No brakes on sleds, to stop you either ran out of hill, skidded by turning sharply, or fell off into the fresh snow. And the fun lasted until the afternoon, when the sun would come out, the snow would get mushy, and hunger, cold, and wetness would eventually take over. And then back for another short run, until dark.
One Christmas when our boys were 8 and 12, we went back for Christmas-and it snowed, fulfilling two desires-a white Christmas and sleigh riding! But since the hills of my youth were now paved and gone, my nephew Charlie took us up to McGinn School, a long walk of about a half mile. Charlie went into his whining mode early, as I told him we were walking-his mom didn't need to take us. But by the time we got there, we were all pumped from talking about how fast we would go, and the hills we would do it on, and joined some other kids riding their sleds. One black kid, who we nicknamed Urkle for obvious reasons, stayed with us all day. We all had fun, riding the hills, and going faster than some had ever gone due to me pushing them. But by the time it got dark , Urkle had to go, we were wasted, and Charlie wanted us to send his mom back to get him. When we refused, threatening to let him there alone, he considered his choices, and walked with us-talking the whole time about going tomorrow and how much fun he had. But I think the ultimate compliment came from Urkle, who wanted to know what time I was coming up tomorrow so he could meet us! I'm sure the story he told his friends about an old, white guy in a leather jacket with two kids and nephew, from California, could have started an urban legend. "And that guy could really go fast! He didn't get tired or anything!" I don't think it is important for him to know I never saw 8 o'clock that night!
It's OK to have fun like a kid, even when you are supposed to be an adult. And the impact you can make, sharing while sleigh riding with others can be more valuable than preaching at them. It is all about relationships, and it starts with God. And your life will show the world who He is in your life. Just talking with Urkle, he found out about who we were, and we shared Jesus, not preaching, but just talking. No threatening words, just sharing. Like it should be. He respected our actions, and became our friend, then he could respect our words. Not going out witnessing, but being a witness. Having fun, and if anyone should have fun, it is Christians.
Jesus said, "as you go, spread the gospel," and as you go, you should. Your actions, and reactions will tell more about who Jesus is than many words, if your actions don't back it up. So when knee deep in snow with a bunch of kids, be who you are in Christ. And let me leave you with this thought? Would you want to be like the old sourpuss preaching to you, telling you how dangerous the snow is, or how you'll catch cold, even how wrong you are, or be shown love, the love of Jesus Christ while making a new friend? Jesus went sleigh riding with us that afternoon, He is always near, and we had fun. Urkle even told us how he went to church with his parents. I know he'll hear the gospel there, and I know he was shown love and respect that snowy afternoon. And a new way to go fast on a sled.
And I got to go back 30 years in only one afternoon. And be that 10 year old kid-again. My continuing childhood fully intact.
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot.com
People only care about what you know, when they know you care. So whether it be a call to sleigh ride, or just ride, do it in love. Never grow up, only grow in God's love. Appearing every snowy day, on a hill near you.
