Yesterday presented three alternatives. Alone I reasoned.
Should I attend the evening’s Bible study? God was/is always watching how, if, how frequently, and fervently I worship Him. I do prefer everlasting paradise than the fires of eternal damnation. I’d missed the last several meetings, always with a temporal conflict. God’s patience with me, could be running thin.
Closer to home was a public debate on the potential sale of our local hospital for a billion dollars. During my career, I’d feasted on local governmental money-driven deals. Costs vs. benefits. The jousting for positional advantage prior to the eventual vote. The adrenaline rush at the cries from the crowd. I’d enjoy evaluating the pros vs. cons, and then either supporting or fighting against the change from a public to a private entity.
Last, should I, would I, could I watch a three-foot person at her first soccer practice. I considered she’d have other practices and games would follow. My slow-footed, easily winded, near-sighted, under-sized genes could’ve been passed on to her? The horrors of biological inheritance.
The day before, she’d reminded me of how I was a “no-show” at her pre-school class graduation during which she’d sang at months before. My excuse was my work. My apology didn’t satisfy her.
“Why did you have to work?”
“To make money.”
“Why you have to make money?”
“To be able to pay for treats for you.”
Her quizzing ceased for only seconds. The sugar sweet prospects had her green eyes dancing with glee.
“So, when are we going for ice cream, Grandpa?”
Would this evening be for God, for community, or for family?
To justify my decision, I used logic. Blessed with good health and not anticipating a near term fatal accident, I calculated my mortality odds. God wouldn’t be taking me any time soon. I still had time to go to church, pray, do good deeds, and everything else he didn’t demand, but wanted me to love Him freely. He’d be angered knowing I begrudgingly attended Bible study.
.
As for the public debate, I calculated the room would be packed with hundreds against the sale of the hospital –which had been initially funded with local taxpayers’ moneys. Would my voice be heard, or would my ears contribute by listening in any way? A simple majority of the five Commissioners could change the fate of our community. There would be more meetings, more facts, arguments, etc. Powerless, I still had time to be a spectator.
(Upon reflection, it might’ve helped to hold the Bible study at the public meeting. I know, I know—separation of church and state prevents the co-mingling of events).
Reclining on the soft grass, mottled hands shaded droopy eyes from the setting sun. I watched her baby-sized cleats hop, skip, and dance after a ball, a third her size. Kicking and chasing, then repeating in zig-zag pursuit, she wove her way down the field. Unguarded. She was quicker, faster, shiftier than the others. . . or so I imagined.
She kicked and “scored” into an empty net with a smile as wild as her angel hair. She’d earned a chocolate sprinkled strawberry cone.
Now I might be heading to hell thanks to a botched operation because the privatized hospital administration had to cut costs to give the shareholders the return on equity they demanded.
But choosing to witness my grandchild’s play was my kind of heaven on earth.
General
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Your story was very sweet; I’m sure your grandchild appreciated it. I like how you set up your story in such a way that it mirrors the pros and cons checking we all do when there’s too much to do and too little time to do it all. Sometimes we just have to decide what our priorities are.