My friend works with someone who lost 200 pounds. One day he asked him how he did it. He was expecting a complicated “core blasting, fresh caught river fish, only eat green things that grow in the late autumn,” kind of answer. Do you know what the person said?
“I ate less. And I moved more.” Then, in the way I tell the story in my head, he dropped an imaginary mic like Eminem at the end of 8 mile and walked away.
Sometimes we want things to be complicated so we don’t have to do them. We talk ourselves into circles and analyze and debate a million different ways so that there are obstacles between us and whatever action we know we should be taking. But kids see through that kind of nonsense.
McRae, my 6 year old, reminded me of that the other day.
While driving her home from art class, one of my favorite moments of every week, she said, “If I was homeless I would go to Costco every day to eat samples.”
That seems like a pretty solid plan. McRae doesn’t know they check for a membership card at the door. In her mind you could work the Costco sample buffet like a charm.
I asked her in response, “Where would you sleep at night?”
She paused for a second like she couldn’t believe the absurdity of me even having to ask and said, “At church.”
What she said next knocked me off my feet a little:
“The church would let me or they’re not Christians.”
I thought she was done after that, but she continued, “That’d be mean to say ‘get out of here, this is private property!’ I’d sleep at the church. You know, the church?”
I almost checked the rear view mirror to make sure there was still a six year old little girl in the back seat and not a tiny, booster seated theologian.
She’s right. There are some things in life we’re just supposed to do.
They might be difficult but they’re not complicated.
If you ever ask a little kid they’ll let you know what they are. And if you ask who should be doing them, they’ll probably look at you like you’re a little crazy and respond, “The church. You know, the church?”