January 19, 2010

I remember much playing in my childhood. Fantastic worlds I imagined and lived in. Alfafa fields, the ancient apple orchard, and the old barn were stages for civil war battles, western cowboy action, detective fantasies, and outdoor monopoly. As I grew older my play became less fantastic but continued. Long exploratory walks along the banks of Rock Creek, baseball, and basketball were the arenas in which my imagination now had its way. Immigrating to Canada had a playful imaginative dimension. I was a part of the great hippie back to the land movement. When children came on the scene I played with them. While market gardening was much hard work it always had a playful element about it. I was farming! No longer tinker toy machinery plowing, sowing, and reaping the living room fields but nevertheless the pleasure of tilling, planting, and harvesting in ‘real’ soil was very imaginative and gratifying. Making money was fun. It wasn’t monopoly money anymore but the feel of cash in the hand touched the same center of playful pleasure.
My playfulness went underground when I became a pastor, but did not disappear. Without my sense of play I would not have lasted as long as I did as a pastor (12 years).
I know there are books written about the importance of play. I haven’t read them. I just know that God delights in play. It is the ground out of which creation springs.