The ocean is too big for there not to be a God.
Look at it. Tonight the scene stares from a top story balcony toward the breaking tide beneath. A person walks along the sand. Minuscule, this form of humanity all but recedes with the pulling current.
If one person stood in that same distance for all the space covered by sea, all creation would be collected. Yet that one indistinguishable person walks softly atop the sand, larger than the lapping foam beneath.
No person who looks upon it could deny God. Man simply is too small. Creation is too big. The difference between the two, too great. And God is too much to consider letting anyone go too long thinking otherwise.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Monday, March 17, 2008
And The Winner Is
For anyone who still may not know, the verdict is rendered.
The test came Friday, the results Saturday with a tucked envelope and a greeting card that spoke mouthfuls without the first word. All based on a tiny picture of someone not yet born. Amazing in its simplicity and yet still its ability to draw families and friends together like little else, that anticipated image held almost every breath present.
And what a present it was. Boy or girl, two parents were exceedingly happy just to have a child entrusted by God. Each with their own challenges and triumphs, this revelation was one of knowing what joys lie ahead more than hoping for anything above another. But it had to be only one. And it was.
The gold sticker pulled from its grip. Both envelopes--one stuffed within the other to hide any sign of what shown beneath--peeled back and there was the color that introduced a coming child to the world.
I am no more a father today than I was a week or month ago. It only seems so, knowing a little more of what I know. There will not come a time when I forget the feeling of opening that card, and just how much I already loved my new child. I hope he always realizes it.
The test came Friday, the results Saturday with a tucked envelope and a greeting card that spoke mouthfuls without the first word. All based on a tiny picture of someone not yet born. Amazing in its simplicity and yet still its ability to draw families and friends together like little else, that anticipated image held almost every breath present.
And what a present it was. Boy or girl, two parents were exceedingly happy just to have a child entrusted by God. Each with their own challenges and triumphs, this revelation was one of knowing what joys lie ahead more than hoping for anything above another. But it had to be only one. And it was.
The gold sticker pulled from its grip. Both envelopes--one stuffed within the other to hide any sign of what shown beneath--peeled back and there was the color that introduced a coming child to the world.
I am no more a father today than I was a week or month ago. It only seems so, knowing a little more of what I know. There will not come a time when I forget the feeling of opening that card, and just how much I already loved my new child. I hope he always realizes it.
Monday, March 3, 2008
March Madness
Honestly, would you want to be a basketball player at seven feet, eight inches tall?
The thought arose after watching one such monstrosity recently at the Winthrop Coliseum. Initially, the spectacled blessing of such size seems an incomparable gift for a basketball player. Is it, though? Consider. You make a great play, like dunking the ball without jumping or blocking a shot with your armpit, and everyone laughs. Make anything less than a great play and everyone laughs uncontrolably.
Never mind that no one ever looks at you like a normal person. Never mind that, at more than 90 inches, you are tall enough to ride some rollercoasters twice. Never mind that you are too tall to ride any rollercoaster once. Never mind that beautiful women in the stands could put your basketball shorts on at the shoulder and still sport a modest, though unique, floor-length dress. Never mind that those same women could wear your jersey after the game and mop the floor as they go.
Maybe there is something to being that tall. As for me, though, keep the knee braces. Keep the carnival attraction basketball shoes. Keep the ducked doorways, the custom clothing and the strange looks you have to bend your neck unnaturally to see. Keep it all.
The thought arose after watching one such monstrosity recently at the Winthrop Coliseum. Initially, the spectacled blessing of such size seems an incomparable gift for a basketball player. Is it, though? Consider. You make a great play, like dunking the ball without jumping or blocking a shot with your armpit, and everyone laughs. Make anything less than a great play and everyone laughs uncontrolably.
Never mind that no one ever looks at you like a normal person. Never mind that, at more than 90 inches, you are tall enough to ride some rollercoasters twice. Never mind that you are too tall to ride any rollercoaster once. Never mind that beautiful women in the stands could put your basketball shorts on at the shoulder and still sport a modest, though unique, floor-length dress. Never mind that those same women could wear your jersey after the game and mop the floor as they go.
Maybe there is something to being that tall. As for me, though, keep the knee braces. Keep the carnival attraction basketball shoes. Keep the ducked doorways, the custom clothing and the strange looks you have to bend your neck unnaturally to see. Keep it all.
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