FORSYTH, MONTANA. WHERE BUTT WHOOPINS COUNT...
I spent many summers in Forsyth as a kid. I'm guessing the population was around 1200 at that time. My grandpa had a church there for 8 years. I remember how hard he worked as he was just one man in a small church. Nowadays where we have assistant pastors and associate ministers, etc., we can share the load but he was, at least to me, a one man shop! (well, grandma did the kids sermons!)

My sister and I would argue constantly and really torment my poor grandma. One day I was entirely fed up with my sister and I ran away to the church basement. This wasn't much of a feat considering the house was about 100 yards away from the church. But I was pretty determined at nine years old to make a break for it. I'd had it with Big Sky Country and wanted to go back to the beach.

So I hid down in the basement and after about an hour my grandfather came down the stairs with a checker board folded under his arms and a box of checkers in his hand. He called me out and asked me to sit at one of the tables (the basement was set up for coffee after church and was partially furnished at this time).

"Honeychild," he said, "I'd like for you to come home to me and your grandma."

I shook my head. Nothing doin. I was a willful kid...I didn't do anything BOLD that I didn't mean. (not much has changed come to think of it...)

"I tell you what, Danie...you play me one game of checkers and if you win, you can live here in the church basement for the rest of the summer. Grandma will fix your meals and bring them to you." Oh I was liking the sound of this...

"But if you lose, then you come home with me."

OH YES! My ancient grandfather was surely no match for my checkering. I eagerly accepted the challenge and my heart pounded as I took the first move...

Of course, my grandfather won the match. I didn't stand a chance! But at nine, I figured I knew it all. Being the wise grandpa that he is, he knew it wasn't as simple as asking me to come home or pointing out that staying down in that basement was a ridiculous idea.

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How many of us have run away and are hiding? Accept God's challenge to go a few rounds. He'll whip your butt and then bring you back home. And isn't that what we really want anyway? Hanging out in a basement with no food and no grandma is for losers.

Danielle's Note: a reader reminded me that "butt whoopins" are for the ignorant. I'm speaking (well, writing) in figurative terms here. :-)