A good day together

Many years ago, when I was just a boy, I witnessed a seemingly mundane episode between a father and his son at my church. It was seemingly mundane because the interaction wasn't bizarre, hilarious, or tense, but for some reason I remembered it. Thirty-some years later, something I see or hear will trigger the memory.

The boy was little, the age that it's impossible to not be a spastic, squirming worm at church. Church had ended, likely to the flummoxed father's relief, and he and his boy were now outside. It must've been the right time to address the rambunctious disobedience of the prior hour, for the father put his hand on the boy's shoulder and stared into his eyes. Yet, he was calm, and was ready to say something that by God's grace would calm the boy.

"I want us to have a good day together," he said.

Plain words, deep meaning

They were simple words, to the degree it's odd I remember them. I think I was expecting to watch what dads usually do in that situation. To say something angrily with chastisement, to assist the kid in feeling just the right amount of shame for being such an imp.

Instead, his words were kind, calming, and unifying—just what the little soul needed. They were words that any of us would be happy to hear from our father, especially if he was frustrated with us.

I want us to have a good day together.

The words stuck. Not just because the father didn't scold his boy and say something regrettable, but because his words were full of commitment. I want us...together...I'm in this with you. My day won't be what it could be without you.

And they stuck because they were optimistic in the moment of potential spiral. A good day. A good day is possible with you right now.

Hearing the words for ourselves

We grownups aren't too different from that boy. We tend to operate in a similar frenzy, albeit more sophisticated. We're quick to tread our own paths, make our own messes, spew the hurtful words, do what we said we wouldn't, or don't do what we said we would.

And when we're down, guilt-filled, and exhausted, it's just the moment when our heavenly Father would put his hand on our shoulder, look us in the eye, and say, "I want us to have a good day together."

It's a constant invitation. It doesn't come with scolding or shame. It also doesn't come with the promise the day will be happy. But we can be sure we won't be alone, and with Him in it with us, it will be a day of unity.

And that is indeed good.