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.Â
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.Â
 Pax Domini sit semper vobiscum.
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