We've ridden the Mexican Train quite a few times this summer. Now, before it's misconstrued that we have had a picturesque trip south of the border (or South of the Border, even - for those who've ever traveled I-95 between the Carolinas) - it's a game. Played with colorful dominoes. The thing about Mexican Train is that the rules are complex enough to be interesting but not so convoluted that it makes your head hurt. Sometimes you just don't want to have to worry about houses and resources and going to jail and whodunit. You just look for places that match and take your turn. There is a little strategy to it but so much depends on the stones you have in your hand. And - the great part is that you start over with new bounty every round. Yes. The score goes with you, on a slip of paper, tallied then done away with at the end of the game. But the best part is the space for conversation.
So, I guess what I'm really saying is that we've had a wealth of robust conversations this summer. Many extremely silly with new nicknames spun up and snort-level laughter and singing - bad singing. Some easy and sweet. Watermelon and baby gifts - running through sprinklers. A few gut wrenching and painful - troubled ones surrounded, hands outstretched, fervent prayers. Afternoons when we asked the hard questions, is this ending? How will we go on? Heaven family growing, earth family bereft. Honest hurts exposed to healing air. Dear, dear friends becoming even dearer one stone at at time.
In 1960, Hasbro released a game called LIFE. Some of us are old enough to remember the little plastic cars and tiny pink and blue pegs representing people (female and male passengers, I presume). You started out with a car and one peg (yourself, again presumably) and then took a turn at the cool spinner to advance on the path; collecting money and debt, making life choices and adding peg-people to your car, hoping to end up a millionaire and avoid the poor farm. The best part for me, as I recall, was filling up the holes in my car - I won as long as I ended up with no empty spaces, even if I landed in the poor farm. By the way, the game has evolved, I hear - no more poor farm but bankruptcy. And pet-pegs.
Life-living really isn't a game and it's rarely simple. Sometimes it's complicated and sometimes the hand we're dealt is awful. But another round invariably comes. New stones, new pegs, new chances. New mercies. It's more the company you keep around the board. And what you do with your hand(s). Reminds me of a kid with a few stones, name of David. Took what he had, faced down the baddest of the bad and won. Thank you, Lord, for what you've dealt. And thank you, peg-pals, for filling the empty spaces in my car and for good conversations. I feel like I'm winning. Selah
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