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Zestfully Clutching the Wheel ( Vol. 4, No. 24) I brought back a lot of memories from our week of vacation. This wasn’t one of those get-away-from-everything vacations. We picked our hotels in order to be close to things we wanted to see and do. We strolled through the zoo and the Chinese water garden (sans water due to drought conditions). We viewed countless pieces of art – both wondrous and a little weird. We stood silently in hallowed grounds of a battle lost and lives sacrificed. We even leaned back in our seats as Spider Man brought his exploits to the 3-story tall IMAX™ screen. We ate at restaurants recommended by friends who know the best spots. And we shopped. We mapped out our course and explored the stores of our choosing. If such a place was within striking distance, I was off. As the day grew long, we moved to stores further from the madding crowds. Curiously, such stores are also further from the “go somewhere else” spots. Feeling a little out of place standing in the front of a petite woman’s clothing shop . . . feeling a little in the way as store patrons made their way in and out . . . feeling a little threatened by the steely-eyed glare of a smallish-sized woman who sought access to the clothes rack I chose to stand beside . . . I would often make my way outside to a bench or to a wall where a misplaced soul such as I could lean for a few moments. In almost every one of those locations an amusement ride was nearby. You know the ones. Little rocket ships or helicopters or race cars. Little circular holes specially-designed to swallow quarters. And at each machine stood a dad or mom or sibling dutifully feeding coins on behalf of a would-be astronaut or pilot or driver. I liked watching these scenes. Mainly, I liked watching the faces of the children as they rode. They held on with great wonderment. Their eyes sparkled. Many laughed. All were submersed in the experience. For those few minutes, the rest of the world stopped. It didn’t matter that just outside their spaceship cabin the temperature was close to 100 degrees and that old chewing gum quickly darkened and incinerated on the sidewalks. Nor did it matter that nearby trash cans overflowed and boxes that had contained just-bought merchandise leaned against the race car wheel. And the proximity of multiple adults talking about mundane things like shoe sizes and blouse colors didn’t matter either. For a couple of minutes, the diminutive riders were in a place where reality faded and was replaced by total focus on the personal experience before them. Mark it off to child-like imagination and the truly joy-filled province God creates especially for children. But did God really intend for us to leave these places behind? It may be that many of us need to recapture the simple delights that arise from zestfully grasping what we’ve been generously given -- and being genuinely grateful for the opportunity.
Shine On!
copyright 2004 Joe L. Cope
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