July 6 – “The Real Adventure”

When Cailyn was over the other day she decided it was time to go outside.  Now understand, it has been really hot around here lately, being July and all.  I was not that excited about leaving the comfort of air conditioning for that blast of hot, muggy air that I knew awaited us.  Our ensuing conversation went like this:

Me: “But why do you want to go outside?”

Cailyn (After taking a deep, condescending breath): Because it’s an adventure, DadDad.”
Me: “Well, how can I argue with that?”

And the first stage of the adventure had to include a rousing game of Ring around the Rosie, with all the fanfare of flopping down on the grass.  I am so glad for the hours I put in ripping out each individual root of stickerburs. 

 

That game behind us, she then announced the “Real Adventure.”  Announcements like that from Cailyn are always a bit scary.  We could be heading for a big game hunt for the huge cats of Africa (or the little black cats of the house down the street), or maybe a search for a new mansion for her Barbie doll and her husband Ken to raise their children in (she informed me the other day that Barbie was pregnant).  This particular hunt was limited to searching for the mysterious, elusive, feathered prangstroupdalligated whistler.  I have to be honest here.  I have never seen one myself, but apparently they are the most amazing creatures on the face of the earth.  Very few have ever seen one, but they are known to leave behind traces of their presence in the form of feathers.  That’s right, feathers.  And the tricky thing is, those feathers can actually take the form of feathers from other species, say, pigeons or even seagulls.  You have to gather every feather you come across, lest you miss that very special one of the P-S-D whistler.  Now on our search this time we only found a few of the feathers.  One was a perfectly formed, inch and a half, pigeon-ish brown.  But the other two we almost missed.  Tiny little wisps of pure white hidden among the blades of grass.  White whistler feathers.  What a rare find.  We were elated to say the least.  So much so that we called a halt to the hunt right there.  After all, everyone knows the old saying, “When the white feathers of the prangstroupdalligated whistler begin to fall, the warmest days of the year stand before you.”  Indeed.  It was time to come inside.

Romans 8:38-39 says, “For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Father, thank you for sweet moments of discovery with those who are discovering for the very first time.  Amen.