Sunday, August 17, 2014: Genesis 45:1-15; Matthew 15:21-28

My wife, our four sons, and I occasionally take family trips into Washington, D.C. We always go in uniform: everyone wears the same T-shirt. We like the visibility of bright orange, and our current uniform is a loud orange advertisement for the West Michigan White Caps, the minor league baseball team in Grand Rapids. This choice sometimes has the effect of helping Michiganders feel at home on the East Coast, though it deflates them somewhat to realize we are from West Virginia.

One day at the National Gallery of Art, we confirmed the lesson of uniforms. As we strolled through the galleries we suddenly realized we were one boy short. We called for him, heard giggles, and then started the search in earnest. The boys found it endlessly entertaining to watch their parents circle around and around the galleries looking for their hiding son.

After our third lap a kind woman, who obviously had experience with children, quietly told us that our son was hiding in the fern behind the Degas. At least he had good taste in hiding places! “I know he is yours because he has the same shirt,” the woman said. “What a good idea.” After a few more moments we reclaimed our giggling, orange-shirt-wearing son from behind the enormous fern. His day was made, our blood pressure headed back toward normal, and the others agreed that the experience had been “so cool!”