I'm sure you've heard the expression before. When you throw up a soft ball, it's an easy target. The person on the receiving end takes it and knocks it out of the park. Around our house, Jack is our batting king. The kids and I will unknowingly throw up something innocent and he'll turn in into some kind of hilarious joke and with the crack of his bat, there it goes- your conversation and his hearty laugh.
So Kathy and I have started our read-through-the-Bible thing again and I'm realizing that immersing yourself in concentrated scripture is like throwing soft balls to God.
Case in point:
I started my day this morning with coffee and Genesis 10-14. I took a few notes, but at the account of the Tower of Babel, not only did I not have any revelation or new insight, I just kind of thought about how hard God made it for us by scrambling up our words.
So then it was breakfast and the morning madness: "Did you brush your teeth?" (If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times). "Go get dressed." "Make your lunch."
And then the war began.
Over a wardrobe issue.
There were many tears, so much anger, so much frustration ALL ABOUT A BLACK SHIRT.
It was pull-your-hair-out awful.
But the kids got off to school and I took a breath and my sweet husband affirmed me and the he sent me this and I just almost couldn't believe it:
There it was, in black and white: God's soft ball, soaring up and away and far out of the park.
Keep throwing em up, y'all. He can hit.