“Even these may forget. Yet, I will not forget you.
See, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands”.
(Isaiah 49:16) Rookie as I am, I was more than a bit concerned that my curious young ‘uns would wander off. After all, this was our first Mardi Gras parade, and there would be LOTS of people there. What if my kids reached out to catch a strand of beads, turned back around, and couldn’t find us?
As such, I prepared a bit differently than I would for our usual outings. Step 1 of Paranoid Parade Preparation: we ALL wore the same thing. All of us donned purple, gold and green tie-dyed T-shirts. (“Yes Officer! She was right here! I just turned away for a second! Her shirt looks like this!” I screech as he eyes the rest of my family in identical apparel.)
Those who know me well realize I’m fond of buying pairs of clothes for trips. Two of everything. Then I dress the kids alike each day of our journey, especially when large crowds are involved. Of course, the Bug & the Pea are so accustomed to the routine, they realize complaining will do no good.
“Yes dear, I know you’d rather wear your leotard and flip-flops, but it’s easier for me to keep track of you if you’re both wearing this purple shirt and skort.”
The kids are well rehearsed, they usually smile and shake their head when folks comment. Sometimes my ploy backfires substantially. For instance, we’re standing in the eternally long line for the public women’s restroom in a rest area.
“Oh look Ethel! Twins!” says the lady bent over the cane, pointing to the Bug & the Pea with a crooked finger.
Ethel smiles and joins in, “Oh, look at the oldest, with that curly hair!”
The Bug replies with her standard, “Oh we’re not twins. Mom just likes to keep track of us.”
The Pea is quick to add, “I am taller, but I am NOT the oldest, I’m the youngest!”
The Bug furls her eyebrows, clinches her fist and punches her sister. Before you know it, we have a knock-down drag out in the rest area restroom in front of shocked, well-meaning strangers. But I digress…
Ornery as the girls are, they are my own. They belong to me, I love them, and I’m in charge of taking care of them. Step 2 as far as Paranoid Parade Preparation involved a permanent Sharpie marker. I gently held the Bug’s squirmy hand in mine and wrote my name and my cell phone number. I figured if they got lost, and panicked, they wouldn’t have to remember who to call and how, because all they needed would already be written on their hand. (The Pea wasn’t satisfied with having my name and number only on her hand. She grabbed the marker and proceeded to scrawl ginormous numbers down both legs and arms until she was an inky mess. “Look Mom! It’s even on my knees!” Oy.)
A few weeks ago, I saw Toy Story I & II for the first time. (I know, I’m really on top of the whole current movie situation, huh?) Toward the end of the sequel, Woody is faced with two astronaut toys that look identical. He tries to figure out which one is the REAL Buzz, his best friend. Buzz thinks fast, and lifts up his plastic boot for Woody to see the inscription: ANDY. Woody and Buzz both belonged to a little boy named Andy, and Andy had marked each toy to identify ownership.
There’s a verse in Isaiah where the LORD is assuring the people of Israel that they are His chosen ones, they belong to Him. They have been disobedient and downright ornery, and they will face the consequences. But the LORD will bless them, comfort them, and renew them. Isaiah, the prophet, predicts the response in chapter 44:5:
“One will say, ‘I belong to the LORD;
…still another will write on his hand, ‘The LORD’s,’
And will take the name Israel.” I love the idea of my name being inscribed in the Lord’s palm, and of me writing the name of the Lord on my own hand. It speaks to love, and belonging, and comfort, and hope in the midst of crisis. How much more powerful than the inked cell phone number of a parent is the engraving of our Sovereign Heavenly Father?
Long story…well, long: we had a lovely time at our first Mardi Gras parade, especially now that we call New Orleans our home. Perfectly safe and sound, separated only as the kids joined forces with newly met friends for jump-roping and a game of tag. And we caught hundreds of strands of beads, candy, and toys tossed from the beautiful floats as they glided down the streets. Amidst the throng of spectators, cheering and laughing and sipping Snow Balls.
And if you, too, were a parade-goer, and were paying extra special attention, you may have noticed two ornery little girls, in purple/green/gold tie-dyed t-shirts, lips bright blue from snow balls, carrying make-shift jump ropes of broken bead strands, covered from head to toe grass and sand from a game of tag, , so many beads around their neck that they could barely hold their head up as they leaped into the air, arms up, begging for more toys.
Those little ones, with permanent marker ink scribbled on their hands?
Well, those were my girls, they belong to me…
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