Cracker Crumbs and God Images

When I was in fifth grade, my teacher, Mrs. Smith, thought we always needed something extra to help us focus on math.  Every day she would give each student one saltine cracker.  Depending on the day, I would either let each morsel melt in my mouth, or chew it up in a couple of bites.  Those were the most delicious crackers I had ever tasted and they seemed exotic because they were from the teacher.

Saltines come packaged in sleeves and when Mrs. Smith had emptied a sleeve, she would draw a name out of her coffee mug.  This lucky student won the crumbs at the bottom of the packaging.  The winner could lick her finger and gather all the salty goodness at once or hold the package aloft and shake the crumbs down into her mouth or eat each crumb one by one, savoring their deliciousness.

Every time we had crumbs available, I prayed hard to win them.  Sometimes I would just pray a repetitive prayer, "Dear God, please, please, please let me win the crumbs."  Sometimes I would pray a bargaining prayer, "Dear God, if you let me win, I'll be nice to my sister and never fight with her again."

I remember praying just as hard about Six Flags.  My family would go once a year and the week before the trip, my sister and I were so excited we couldn't control ourselves.  We were hyper and fighting and feeding off each other's excitement.  My parents, at a loss on how to control us in the midst of this, would threaten to call the trip off.  I sincerely believed they would do this.  Every year when I went to bed before the big day, I would stay up praying, "Dear God, please, please, please, please, please."

To me, God was some sort of a fairy godmother.  I would want something, pray for it, and either receive it or not.  Praying for Six Flags always resulted in a trip to Six Flags.

Along with being a fairy godmother, to me, God was also a policeman and a judge.  Like Santa Claus, he knew when I had been naughty or nice.  Naughty children were punished.  Bad things happened when you deserved for them to happen and good things happened to those who deserved good things.  To solve fights between my sister and I, my mother often said, "Jesus loves children who share."  My over-active imagination decided that also meant that Jesus doesn't love children who don't share.  As I recall, I was an excellent sharer.

As I grew up, I thought of God not so much as a judge, but a dealer in karma.  At church we were frequently asked how many people we had lead to Jesus and I always felt guilty because my number was always zero.  I would console myself with the parable of the sower and the seeds and hope that I had planted seeds along the way since I obviously hadn't harvested any for the kingdom.

In college, God was my rescuer.  Whether it was a test, a late-night drinking, or a moment of overwhelmed absent-mindedness and loss of car keys, I prayed often for delivery.

Nowadays, I think of God as a constant, loving companion.  I don't believe he judges me, but I do believe he is sometimes sad when I don't live up to my potential.  I don't believe he keeps score, but I do believe he rejoices in our successes and is alongside us through trouble as well.  God isn't a fairy godmother, but I do thank him for my blessings.

I believe that any time you feel love, you are experiencing the Holy.  Whether it's cracker crumbs or Six Flags, or just a day to count blessings, God listens to all my prayers and I am grateful.