Somewhere on Stickersville Road in rural southeast Pennsylvania in 1983 there was a boy sitting in the back up of an old pickup truck laughing with joy having an adventure just getting ice cream with his father.
There's a girl in our neighborhood who every so often comes around to our house. She rings the doorbell. Knocks on the door. She waits and waits. My daughter, a few years her senior, hides away in the dining. Gazing (unsubtly) out the front window, behind the drapes. Peering. Waiting.
The Bible says that God is our Father, an analogy that only a parent can fully appreciate. Every now and then God gives you a tiny glimpse at the overall importance of your life, your role, your purpose — and that moment will bring you to your knees. As a father I had a distrinct moment of clarity the other night, not merely the realization that time escapes us, but feeling the rush as time flies.