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I was taught at a young age never to discuss politics, religion, or sex in mixed company. I try to adhere to this guideline, for at least two out of the three topics. (::wink wink::) And it seems to make sense for me for a couple of reasons. One, no one’s opinion on any of the above has ever changed mine. And two, I am not seeking to change anyone else’s. I think everyone having the right to their own opinions and practices is part of what makes this country so amazing. But once in a while, you see or experience something that makes it hard for even the most adamant Atheist to deny the existence of a higher power, both directing and protecting us. Among these experiences are an infant wrapping its tiny hand around your finger, a breath-taking sunset, a wall of honeysuckle growing volunteer, and what happened in my house today.
Zachary, my near two-year-old, came plopping down the hall in his typical heavy footed fashion. “Mommy, mommy, yoook!” <Look.> He is always excitedly sharing his new discoveries, so him telling me to “yook” is a daily, perhaps hourly, occurrence. I was not alarmed. When he rounded the corner to the kitchen and displayed to me is magenta hands, I was puzzled at first.
It’s hard for me to recall what exactly came to my mind first (besides swear words), because so many disastrous possibilities lay before me. I know I wasn’t frozen long though, because Zac was eager to take me back down the hall to show me what he’d “found.” But for that quick moment, I pictured blotches of pink down my hallway walls, a pink trail to follow on my hardwood floors, ruined carpet, a pink cat? When I arrived at the scene, what I saw shocked me more than if he had finger-painted my quilt. ... click HERE to view the rest of the story!