Have you ever had something as simple and seemingly insignificant as a cookie take you back in time? I have. It was just a few weeks ago.
There I was, pushing my cart down the aisle of my local grocery store (Publix, of course) when I came upon these lovely little cookies, prominently displayed to entice the Valentine shoppers. Suddenly, I was back in my Kindergarten classroom at Lime Street Elementary School. The year was 1965.
My hands were folded on top of my desk. I was sitting up straight and tall. I was displaying my very best behavior but on the inside I was about to burst!
“Pick me”! “Pick me”!
My teacher stood in front of the classroom holding a basket full of pieces of paper, each one inscribed with the name of a kindergartener. A boy or girl stood next to her, ready to reach in and draw out a name.
“Pick me”! “Pick me”! “Please, please, please, pick me”!
The person chosen would be the “cookie girl” or “cookie boy” the next day. That child would have the honor of supplying cookies for the entire class the next day. It was a highly coveted commission among the kindergarten set. (I’m sure our parents thought of it more as a duty or chore rather than an honor).
The previous cookie girl reached her hand into the basket and drew out a name. Mrs. Yates read the name out loud.
“Oh, please, let it be me”!
“Kim Edwards! You are the new cookie girl for tomorrow”!
Yes! Joy above all joys! This meant that I would get to go to the grocery store with one of my parents and pick out cookies to take to my class the next day! Now, I was not content to provide your ordinary, run of the mill cookies. No Oreos, Vienna cookies or chocolate chips for this girl. I would head straight to the Danish Bakery and pick out the fancy little tea cookies, starburst shaped with blue candy centers.
The following day, I would proudly walk into my classroom carrying a little white box full of dainty tea cookies. (It just occurred to me that the boys probably hated it when I was cookie girl). I would get to draw the name of the next cookie boy or girl and then impatiently wait until it was my turn again a few weeks later.
This made me consider how I respond to serving the Lord. Am I saying to God “pick me!, pick me!, yes, I’ll do that, I’ll go there, I’ll talk to that person, I’ll write that.” “I’ll do whatever you ask, please, oh please, pick me”. Or, do I see the opportunities to serve God that are placed before me as a chore or something to be dreaded.
Its a question of perspective. Do I get to serve the Lord? or Do I have to serve Him? How about you?
And I heard the voice of the Lord, saying, Whom shall I send, and who will go for us? Then I said, Here am I; send me. Isaiah 6:8 (ASV)