Sunday, November 8, 2015

Another One Bites The Dust

I'm not saying exactly how it happened.  Actually, I'm not saying how it happened at all.  But what is clear is that I was recently forced to buy a yet another new cell phone because my very stylish, and very expensive smart phone bit the dust. Because inquiring minds want to know, what I will say about the circumstances that lead to the demise of yet another phone is that it involved both very unhygienic water and high speed impact.  As readers of Darrell's Yakimania well know, I have replaced a number of my phones due to curious conditions that have voided the insurance replacement contract.  I have lost, damaged and destroyed phones in peculiar circumstances that can only be described as fantastical.  I wouldn't have believe some of these events, had I not been present and witnessed with my own eyes what actually happened.  It's frustrating for me, primarily because I can't explain my seemingly endless streak of bad luck when it comes to cell phones.  It's as if my phones hate me for reasons that defy logic.  Phones (as smart as they are) cannot think; therefore, this notion that "my phones hate me" makes no sense whatsoever. And because none of this makes sense, nor provides me with the ability to rationally explain it, I simple shrug and confess, another bites the dust.

O Ye of Little Faith

Let me just say as a man of faith, I believe in miracles.  While I do not understand how the Lord helped Moses part the Red Sea, I am convinced that it happened.  And though I’m not sure why the ravenous lions did not eat Daniel, or how Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego survived the firery furnace, however, as a person of faith I believe these phenomena actually happened as described in the scriptures.  I am surrounded by people of faith, especially my wife—the Shewolf.  She is truly a woman with a believing heart.  And so it is with literally every member of my family--as a group they are capable of believing the wondrous miracles recorded in holy writ. 

Knowing that my family is so willing to believe in the miracles of the Bible and the Restored gospel, I am intrigued and nonplussed as to why it is so difficult for them to believe the seemingly small miracles that occur in every-day life.  Just this morning I arose early, which I am wont to do, and discovered a veritable modern day miracle.  A pan of chocolate chip cookies apparently came out of the oven with a missing corner.  To me, this appeared to be nothing short of a miracle. How else to explain this kitchen oddity?  I, however, was immediately swarmed by people who choose to compartmentalize their faith, and instead of seeing an obvious miracle, replaced faith with accusations and the preternatural with doubt.  If all of the fantastic miracles accounted for in the scriptures are so readily believed by my loved ones, why the sudden crisis of faith when it comes to a pan of cookies?  Why discount and find unbelievable a pan that miraculously bakes cookies in a weird and inexplicable configuration?  This family conflict begs the question, "Which is harder, raising the dead, or baking cookies in an odd shape?" 

While accusations continue to be flung in my general direction for the simple reason that I discovered the pan of cookies with the missing corner, I remain strong, resilient, and even defiant in the face of these naysaying misanthropes.  Even if it wasn’t a miracle, why the hubris over a bit of cookie?  If this continues, I might just consider moving to the Deep South where I undoubtedly can find better friends and surround myself with people who will believe virtually anything—yes, those elect few who are capable of finding the face of Elvis in a grilled cheese sandwich or perhaps even the effigy of Pope Francis in a mutilated marshmallow.