The Shoelace Box

They came to my house for an afternoon.
Four young boys from church who are very precious to me.
Our home is familiar to them.
Our home is home away from home.

They know where all the toys are.
They know where all the snacks are.
They know they will find M&M’s in the chicken feeder dispenser on my kitchen island.
They know all the best places to play outside starting with the tree swing.

It is a blessing to have them here.
It is delightful to have the sound of young boys in my house.
It is wonderful to see Legos all over the floor.
It is nostalgic to see knights and dragons and pirates and ships scattered about.

I was able to talk to each of them one on one.
I heard about school, their teachers, and the friends that are in their class.
I heard about sports and what position they play on the team.
I heard their dreams and wishes, sometimes obvious, sometimes hidden.

I probably got more out of the afternoon than they did if truth were told.
I would like to think we were mutually blessed.
I watched the youngest one come outside and sit down to put on his sneakers.
He looked down then looked up at me trying to decide if he should ask me or not.

This is the one that tries so hard to be independent.
This is the one that makes it his goal to keep up with his brothers.
This problem at hand was just an age thing.
This was just something he had to learn and practice.

I saw the laces on his sneakers flapping.
I knew that he would trip as soon as he began to run on the driveway.
I wanted to keep his pride intact and encourage his independence.
How about if I tie your shoes so you can go right out and play?

Yeah, I’m learning but it’s hard, he said with his impish grin.
I know it’s hard. I remember when my children were your age and had to learn.
Really? He asked struggling with the concept of these grown people ever being little.
And you know how they learned to tie their shoes?

He shook his head quickly from side to side.
They learned to tie their shoes with a shoelace box.
A shoelace box? He asked giggling, as if I made that up.
Yes, a shoelace box which they loved and carried everywhere.

What is it? He asked really wanting to know.
I knew that he was thinking about his oldest brother who loved making things out of cardboard.
I punched holes in the lid of a small box.
He looked confused.

It’s really hard to bend over and tie your shoes the right way when you’re first learning.
It would be so much easier to tie your shoes if they were on your lap.
But if you tie your shoes while they are on your lap, you can’t get them on your feet.
He laughed at the thought.

So I did the next best thing.
I made a pretend shoe out of a box and punched holes in the lid.
I laced a very long, very colorful shoelace in the holes.
They could put the shoelace box on their lap and practice tying that way.

He seemed so interested in this whole concept.
Did they learn to tie?
They sure did!
And once they learned to tie the shoelace box, they could easily tie their shoes.

By now, his shoes were tied and he was ready to play.
He ran off.
I thought of gift boxes I had in my attic, none of which were the right size.
A box that holds a child’s pair of shoes is the best size for a shoelace box.

I cannot take credit for this idea.
I read an obscure children’s book to my children years ago that touched on the same concept.
It was just a matter of taking the idea and implementing it.
It was the best thing I ever did to help little fingers learn to tie big shoelaces.

I haven’t thought about the shoelace box for quite some time.
Putting something on your lap to make the task easier was brilliant.
How many times have we mothers put a child on our lap to make things a bit easier for them?
The burdens of childhood: scraped knees, hurt feelings, and bad dreams are mended on the lap.

We take what is big and seemingly insurmountable and lift it onto our lap.
There it is manageable.
There it is doable.
There we learn new skills that can be transferred to everyday life.

Everyday life that needs to happen off the lap.
Everyday life that is lived and practiced.
Everyday life with its long, colorful laces of complexities that must be mastered.
Everyday life that requires a safe place to renew and refresh.

The Lord is my light and my salvation – whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life – of whom shall I be afraid? When evil men advance against me to devour my flesh, when my enemies and my foes attack me, they will stumble and fall. Though an army besiege me, my heart will not fear; though war break out against me, even then will I be confident. One thing I ask of the Lord, this is what I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord and to seek Him in His temple.  (Psalm 27:1-4)

When David wrote that Psalm, he was doing a little lap sitting himself.
David had trouble all around him as Saul was seeking to kill him.
David knew that he needed a safe place to renew and refresh.
David needed to climb up on the lap of His heavenly Father and gaze upon His beauty.

So do we.
Life is hard.
There are things that need to be mastered, things that must be learned and practiced.
There is a lap upon which we sit to master the Kingdom skills needed for this life.

There is a safe place where we can learn in solitude.
There is a necessary place where we can master what is seemingly impossible.
There is something we can carry around with us to practice all we need to know.
Our Bible is our shoelace box.

It is what we have on our lap so that we can learn and practice.
It is what we turn to so that we can transfer Kingdom skills to everyday life.
Our Bible can go with us wherever we go.
Unlike an actual shoelace box, we never outgrow our need for God’s Word.

Never.
We can run off and go about our day.
However, we take the lessons of God’s shoelace box with us.
Do you have a shoelace box of your own?