Every day I have the honor of sitting down with a book that contains the words of the One who created me. Every day I have the opportunity to let him give me a thought or two on how to live.
If I don't do what he says, he doesn't burn the book or cancel my subscription. If I disagree with what he says, lightning doesn't split my swivel chair or an angel doesn't mark my name off the holy list. If I don't understand what he says, he doesn't call me a dummy.
In fact, he calls me "Son," and on a different page explains what I don't understand.
At the end of the day when I walk through the house, I step into the bedrooms of three little girls. And one by one, I bend over and kiss the foreheads of the angels God has loaned me. Then I stand in the doorway and wonder why in the world he would entrust a stumbling, fumbling fellow like me with the task of loving and leading such treasures.
Then I go and crawl into bed with a woman far wiser than I ... a woman who deserves a man much better looking than I ... but a woman who would argue that fact and tell me from the bottom of her heart that I'm the best thing to come down her pike.
After I think about the wife I have, and when I think that I get to be with her for a lifetime, I shake my head and thank the God of grace for grace and think, Remarkable.
I'm learning not to take these everyday miracles for granted.
I'm discovering many things: traffic jams eventually clear up, sunsets are for free, Little League is a work of art, and most planes take off and arrive on time. I'm learning that most folks are good folks who are just as timid as I am about starting a conversation.
I'm meeting people who love their country and their God and their church and would die for any of the three.
I'm learning that if I look ... if I open my eyes and observe ... there are many reasons to take off my hat, look at the Source of it all, and just say thanks.