Fleeting Moments of Joy

Life and God give us some immeasurably brief explosions of sheer joy. Tonight, I was cleaning the kitchen after dinner.� My son, thirteen, bounded up the stairs to tell me Keith Tkachuk almost scored.� I was distracted and grunted some response, like, “Really?”

He turned, pounding a baseball into his new Nike glove, and returned to the basement.� There was a shout.� Then footsteps beating fast and loud up the steps.�

Breathlessly, Patrick reported, “Dad, that goal Tkachuk almost had doesn’t matter now, you know why?� He just scored.”

That a thirteen-year-old still wants to share such moments–a goal in the first period of a mid-season game for a last place team–almost breaks my heart.� Simultaneously, it demands a prayer of thanksgiving.� � It was the best Christmas present I received.�

� Pax Domini sit semper vobiscum.