Punch buggy - No punch backs!

Riding home from Sunday school, my dad, sister and I played a game that folks who grew up in the 70s and 80s may remember – Punch buggy.

If you’re not familiar, here’s an example – let’s say one of us saw a red Volkswagon Beetle, also known as a VW bug. The first to spot the car quickly punched the other two in the arm and yelled, “Punch buggy red, no punch back!” The victor settled back, pleased, while continuing to search along the route for the next VW Bug – parked or in motion.

The goal of the game was two-pronged – 1) be first to spot the VW Beetle so to avoid getting punched and 2) rack up as many of these Beetle sightings as possible during the ride.

Looking back, I can’t help but to laugh at the parental endorsement of and participation in punching in a moving car but these were the days before seatbelts were mandated. So there’s that.

But the game made the ride – which was only about 5 miles and less than 20 minutes – a source of fun and laughter.

Some days, the ride yielded a few Punch buggy sightings – there were usually one or two VW Beetles parked on the street that we could count on. Other days, there were absolutely none.

I’m struck by the fact that our sense of expectation remained consistent and unwavering. Did we know whether the day would yield nine Punch buggies or none? No. But seeing zero VW Beetles one Sunday didn’t deter us from playing the game wholeheartedly the next Sunday. Or the Sunday after that. Each Sunday after church, we hopped into the car anticipating a banner day of Punch buggy.

Looking back, I see the beauty of childlike expectation.

Expectation becomes complicated, as we get older. Disappointments happen and their impacts become more significant. We sense that the moving parts have to align perfectly to produce the desires of our hearts. We become realistic or jaded or pessimistic to protect our hearts. We stop expecting (good things). We hope and dream less.

I once had a pastor who said, if you can’t say Amen, say Ouch. Ouch.

Not assuming a posture of expectation does lessen the sting of disappointment and unmet anticipation. But it also dulls the shine of dreams realized, prayers answered, and hopes fulfilled.

When we choose not to expect, hope or dream, I think we miss out on the fun, excitement, and joy that often accompanies anticipation. And sometimes, even when the expectation is realized, the mental and emotional shift from a lack of anticipation to enjoyment is slow (it takes a while to regain feeling when we’re numb, right?) and we miss out on the fullness of the blessing.

And despite fully understanding this stance, I can see that mode of operation is probably not the optimal approach to living.

Some of the people I most admire for their joie de vivre wholly experience the joys of life AND actively look forward to the good things that they anticipate are around the corner. Do they experience disappointments, heartaches, and heartbreaks? Yep! But they don’t let it define their outlook on life or their willingness to plan for and anticipate good things. They live fully and in expectation, anyway.

So even if it runs counter to what I might feel like doing, I’m going to (try to) follow their example and my own, tapping into my Punchbuggy-playing days.

Punchbuggy red, no punch-back!