And I write a little about it every few years.
Everyone called him Meg.
Everyone calls me Megs.
I heard the Holy Spirit ask me a few years ago: "What if it is a possessive?"
I am my father's son.
And he would have done this a long time ago.
Time and space live inside God. I believe the clock doesn't stop the way we think it does. Like eternity is the real game we are warming up for, here.
So, my thirteen year old is learning how to drive on this 25th anniversary because he needs to be really comfortable behind the wheel in such a distracted world.
His grampa, Meg, who York hasn't yet, met, would've had him driving tractors or rented Mustangs or something probably a long time ago. (A lot of you who remember Meg, probably remember when I was fifteen we moved to AZ. He let me drive on the Interstate much of the way to AZ by myself on my Iowa school license, because, well, I had a school license and I was going to school in AZ).
We learn how to color outside the lines and take risks from the people we look up to who believe in us.
So in honor of Meg's: This was today's heaven.