No one showed. Jono and I arrived early to get things set up. I had activities, games, and snacks ready to rapid fire into the half dozen first grade boys that form our Tiger Scout den. Playtime, opening activities, share time, discovery time... reload. Snacks, announcements, a closing thought. But no one ever came.
So Jono and I hung out at the playground until dark. I pushed him on the swing for a long time and internally delighted at a chorus of sounds that danced on my ears: sneakers dragging through pea gravel, a squeaky chain, and the genuine belly laughter of my seven year old son soaking up concentrated attention. We played in the pebbles and climbed on the whatchamacalit.
Maybe God knew Jono needed some one-on-one time with his Papa. Maybe God knew Papa needed some one-on-one time with Jono.