My wife and I took our three sons to the beach this year.
I took my middle son out in the water with me as my wife played
in the sand with the other two.
I picked him up as we entered waters that approached my
kneecaps. I held him close to my chest because the water
chilled our bones too much for either of us to hold our own body
heat.
As I held him, my eyes gently rested on the endless expanse of
waves that rolled along the surface ever so rhythmically.
My eyes then drifted higher to the invisible line that separates
the ocean from the sky with exactness. I then beheld the beauty
of the sky and everything that it contained. It seemed like
time had stopped and the only two people on earth were my son
John and I. At that moment, I had the realization that this
would be a great time for a lesson in life.
This was John's first time in the ocean and I knew that there
were certain things that even school couldn't teach him.
John was only two years old, I knew his mind would be highly
impressionable at this age considering his logic faculties had
not been fully developed yet.
Father started with the first lesson on the beach of life.
I said John, "Do you see all of this water, who do you think
created the ocean?"
Before I taught him I just wanted to see what kind of childish,
cartoon minded answer he would give me. He looked out over all
of the countless waves (even though countless in his little mind
was anything over ten) and surveyed the landscape.
Little did I know that my two year old was about to give me an
untaught answer, that half of the professors at Harvard would
have disagreed with. He answered not even in his normal
answering tone, where the answer comes out with such a degree of
doubt that it sounds like a question. With all the force of his
little lungs he shouted out three little but powerful words with
such confidence that it reverberated down the beach.
"God did it."
Even though I was the teacher and had years of training through
an engineering degree at one of the nation's top schools, there
was no more that I could add to this preschooler's answer.
So I went on to the next question.
"John do you see that blue space above the water that we called
the sky, who do you think created that."
As he looked up and again considered the vastness of the space,
he again shouted out:
"God did it."
Again, there was nothing I could add to his answer. I brought
my son out here and was experiencing a moment of inspiration.
I was the daddy and he was the son; I was determined to teach
him something. So I went on to my third question.
"Okay John, those are very big things and yes God did create
them, but do you see that small little bird flying right above
our heads, who do you think created it."
Almost before I could muster a smile from the satisfaction of
finally being able to teach my son something, out shot the
answer:
"God did it."
I figured for my last question I'd better get a little tricky
with him. I guessed that since he knew I was his father and he
knew that I had something to do with him getting in this world,
not to mention I was holding him up from the dangerous water
since he couldn't swim. With a scholar's pride, I asked my
final question.
"John who created you?"
"God did it."
I asked no more questions that day. That day I was the student,
the learner. I learned that some answers are already within us.
~A MountainWings Original by James
Bronner~
