For Dads Only: Children’s Night and The Big Test
Children’s Night?! “C’mon!,” you say, “that’s all we’ve had — children all night, children all day, children while we work, children at play!” Understood, but this is different. You’ve no doubt been dealing with your children during Covid-19 as you would at least deal with your finest furnishings in a flood — while not able to enjoy them you’ve worked hard to keep them high and dry. Now your family may soon be ready for this.
Almost as important as Date Night, and just as hard to establish, was what we called Children’s Night (Blog 6/30/20) — a night when we gave all eyes and ears to our children. As long as it wasn’t dangerous, costly, or too much effort for anyone, we would let the children choose the activity, and we would all do it together. The emphasis was on keeping it simple. The goal was having an uninterrupted time together as a family.
It came about in almost the same way Date Night did. I was never home. The children felt deprived almost every night. My absence even became routine — especially during the long days of summer. After dinner the children would ask, “Dad, are you going to be home tonight?” Always the same answer, “No, not tonight, but maybe we can do something together tomorrow night or the next night for sure.” It seemed that special night would never come or at most, rarely. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be home with the family. I did. It was my greatest desire. But there was so much to be done in my work as a pastor that it felt selfish to be at home with the children. After all, wasn’t the Kingdom of God far more important than my family?
But I made a decision. Friday night would be children’s night — every Friday night. Our kids could count on it. It was one of those few lifetime decisions — right up there with when I committed my life to Christ; right up there with the time I made the shift in my life of moving over and giving Jesus Christ the steering wheel. It was a vow to myself, to my God, and to my family — almost like my wedding vow, although there were no witnesses but God. And I intended to keep the vow no matter what. I knew it had to be like that or it would never happen — just as Date Night had to be. But like all of these kinds of decisions, it had to be tested. Who put me to the test? Was it the Devil, or God, or what? I didn’t know, but I knew it was a test.
It was our first Children’s Night. A great little family hamburger place had just opened in the shopping center just a couple of blocks away. Mimi and the children piled into the car — mouths drooling for those juicy hamburgers and hearts smiling, anticipating a whole night of fun. The car was in the driveway with the driver’s door open as though it were smiling, too. I could see it beckoning me through our open front door as I hurried toward it down the hallway past the little table with the telephone — the telephone! I still play that scene back in my mind, and I can still hear that phone ring. It even brings back the emotions of those moments.
It was Ernie. He was an elder in our church. He was also the executive administrator for Holy Cross Hospital just down the road. He had been talking with a woman who had just been discharged from the hospital with umpteen problems. He promised her help and gave her directions to our church and to our office complex door. He could not make contact with any of our other pastors. So I was it. He said she would be at my office door in a few minutes. I don’t remember what I said or whether I said anything at all but maybe, “Okay. Bye.” Ernie was off the line now, and I was dumbstruck. As I slowly hung up the phone, my eyes were still on the open car door in the driveway, and my mind was thinking a dozen things — a desperate woman, an elder’s promise, my job at stake, my kid’s anticipation. And then I had a flash vision that I'm sure came from God. In a split second I saw a vision of one of my daughters as a grown woman in tears with umpteen problems and knocking on a pastor’s door — problems that all stemmed back to a time when she was a little girl and her father stood her up and it broke her heart.
By the time I reached the front door, I had sent up a flash prayer, “Lord, please take care of the lady going to my office right now. She’s important, Lord, but right now there’s a car here full of people more important at this moment than she is. You have told me so. So I turn this woman and my job at the church over to your care. Amen.” We had a fun time together that night, which began years of children’s nights. And I never heard a thing about it from Ernie or the church or that woman. I still sometimes pray for her.