In April, Flat Stanley showed up in my mailbox. My six-year-old niece, who lives in Pennsylvania, had sent him with the request to house him, color him, and take him everywhere with me. After a week, I should send her photos of me and Flat Stanley doing our thing, which she would then show to her first-grade class, so they would all learn about the world around them.
Okay. I was game. I could hang out with a smiling paper boy for a week.
First, I donned Flat Stanley in a Detroit Tigers t-shirt. Then I pushed away thoughts of feeling like a dork and lugged Flat Stanley with me wherever I went. For seven days, Flat Stanley was my bosom buddy.
And Flat Stanley and I had a ball.
He wrote with me, ate with me, jogged with me. Together, we cheered on the Tigers, played with my dog, and complained when we awoke one morning to three inches of snow. He rode in the cart around the grocery store, and when he discovered that Cookies and Cream ice cream was both our favorite flavor—imagine that!—he insisted that we buy several cartons.
On Friday evening, he accompanied me to my son’s birthday dinner at a restaurant, and on Saturday morning I hauled him to Panera Bread for a breakfast sandwich and umpteen cups of coffee. (Coffee for me, that is. Flat Stanley preferred the hot chocolate.)
We had so much fun together that, instead of sending pictures to my niece, I decided to chronicle our adventures by putting together a book titled Flat Stanley Visits Michigan.
On Sunday, our last day together before his trip back to Pennsylvania, I took Flat Stanley to church.
During the message, our pastor asked, “If you recorded everything you said for a day, would people who played back your recording know that you’re a Christian?” But instead of thinking about a voice recording, I thought about Flat Stanley. We’d just spent an entire week joined at the hip. When I mailed my book to my niece, would everyone who read it know that I’m a follower of Jesus?
That afternoon, I finished Flat Stanley Visits Michigan. After I added the last pages, I turned to page one, began flipping through the book, and tried to read it with an objective eye. Sure, I had one page where I explained the purpose of my blog, and a page about attending church—enough for a reader to understand that I was indeed a Christian. But then I realized that I didn’t have a page about Flat Stanley praying and reading the Bible with me every morning before I got out of bed—a routine I began long ago with the goal of starting the day off right with God. I didn’t have a page where he went to my church’s neighborhood group to study God’s word, enjoy fellowship with other people from my church, and plan mission projects. And I didn’t have a page showing Flat Stanley sitting with my husband and me while we prayed together after dinner.
I know that the point of the project was to teach first graders about living in Michigan. But if my life revolved around Jesus, shouldn’t almost every page reflect him too?
Like I said, I enjoyed my time with Flat Stanley. In a weird way, I kind of got attached to the little guy since I’m an empty-nester now. But if he ever visits me again, I think I’ll do a better job of sharing Jesus through him.
And when anyone reads Flat Stanley Visits Michigan, Book II? Yes, they’ll know I’m a Christian by my Flat Stanley.