I Have No Idea What It Means To Play

“Wait… Don’t leave. Take these with you. Daddy doesn’t need toys.” My toddler obediently picked up his toys off the kitchen island and carried them to his room.

Seems like a fairly innocuous statement, but it made me pause. Daddy doesn’t need toys. Except for gadgets. Gadgets that make Daddy feel equipped to make a name for himself. Toys that enable him to write more, research more, communicate more effectively, and build his platform. 

Once upon a time, 20 years ago, a lady at church kept praying over me Sunday after Sunday, and each time she did she would tell me that Father God wanted to run and play in the fields with me. That He wanted to have fun with me. And that I should rest in Him. 

And I, of course, had no idea what the hell she was talking about. As an 19 year old, I had no concept of how to play anymore. Life was all about being special to someone else. Mostly a woman. Fast forward six years and life was all about being special to a boss. And failing miserably. 

But that’s not the point. The point is that this ability to play escaped me entirely. It’s like I had lost the magic. The wonder. The ability to imagine and to act out a part that might look foolish to someone else. Life was serious business, and I wanted to succeed at it and then escape it with my newly found money.

Fast forward another ten years and I found myself with a mission and a serious historical attitude problem barring entry. And while this post fails to meet the “How To” principle of adding value to everyone else’s lives, I wonder if you can identify with this challenge, and what you have done to overcome it.

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