“No! No frog come,” I screamed and squirmed. I slowly propelled my trike in the opposite direction-away from the pursuant of the frog. I glanced over my shoulder; the frog was gaining at rabbit speed, and I pleaded all the louder “No frog come! No frog come!”
“Frog come! Frog come,” my older brother teased, shoving the frog inches away from my face with each taunt. At twenty-five, he knew that any green, slimy, and jumpy creature was bound to elicit screams and squirms from his little sister, especially when he chased her with frog in hand. He was right.
“No, no,” I protested, shoving my trike forward. At four years old, I didn’t see any enchantment in frogs; I didn’t believe one kiss would break the spell and turn the ugly critter into a dashing prince. If it was green, cold, and jumpy, it was not my friend; it was not meant to be anywhere near me, and it certainly didn’t have any hopes of becoming a knight in shining armor.
Once again, I looked over my shoulder to find my brother’s hands empty. “Wh-where did the frog go?” I asked.
“Looks like the frog got away,” my brother said. I signed; I had escaped the frog invasion unscathed. As I grew up, the frogs would periodically appear, and I would scream and squirm with each hopping reptile. But over the years I began noticing two significant rules to the game: the frog never reached his individual to torment, and the frog always got away before any ounce of genuine fear set in.
I can now look on the “frog come” game with fondness, although at the time the game was threatening. I still can testify that “frog come” still occurs, especially around Christmas. The frogs don’t come breathing, croaking, and tongue flicking; no, the frogs are specially wrapped and planted under the Christmas tree with tags that read: TO: CARMA, FROM: RANDY and TO: RANDY, FROM: CARMA.
The frogs now come as lawn ornaments, garden décor, plush toys, and even figurines. Some of the frogs dance and sing while others have buggy eyes and large scales; some of the frogs just sit like a bump on a log.I don’t mind frogs so much anymore; I dare say I like them, although I can’t guarantee I wouldn’t scream and squirm if a live frog happened to hop on my lap.
I once heard that the word frog could be an acronym for Fully Relying On God (F.R.O.G.). Without fully relying on God, my life would be meaningless; my disability would be unbearable, and my faith would be pointless. But full reliance on God didn’t become a reality until God’s own Son had to have full reliance when He was sent to earth as a babe.
Jesus was sent from heaven, from glory, from perfection to imperfection. Jesus didn’t come as a grown man who was going to save the world with one sweep of His hand. He came as a baby in human form; He grew into a child, adolescent, and adult. He experienced temptations and found His full reliance on God to be His greatest comfort while on earth.
If Jesus wasn’t willing to fully rely on God and come to earth, F.R.O.G wouldn’t have come.I’m fairly confident that “frog come” on the first Christmas too. F.R.O.G came to Mary; F.R.O.G came to Joseph, and Jesus was bringing F.R.O.G to the world for generations to come.
Somehow… my brother must have known that I would need extra ounces of F.R.O.G. in my life!
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