I am told that, if ever there were an example of one brain residing in two bodies, it would have to be my father and myself.
Now HE knows better because of the many times I've called for help on this or that or especially something computer related. And I know better because of all of the many, many times I've had to make those calls. Still ,Mom swears it to be true and has learned that coming to ME for a second opinion is usually no different than going to dad.
Sometimes I am proud of this fact...other times, I'm proud of this fact.
What can I say, he's a smart guy.
Even when I was a teenager in the full throes of rebellion, I could usually see where he was coming from, but since I was blessed with his strong sense of stubbornness as well, I could usually press forward with little side effects of common sense getting through.
When I struggle with things, I find myself wondering if he has struggled with the same questions too, and I usually assume that he has and that is how he already has an answer waiting for me, when I ask.
It has gotten so that, even before I ask, or as I begin to utter my ponderings aloud, I know what it is he will (or would) say and I feel all the sillier for admitting I have a belly button, much less gazing at it for SO long.
All of that as a precursor to something that may seem unrelated, but to me fits perfectly - this thought I had last night:
I love that my dad's favorite verse of scripture isn't the classic fall back: John 3:16 but rather John 3:17 and the idea that follows...we were condemned already...we forget that sometimes...pointing a finger at a God we feel is unfair.
Now HE knows better because of the many times I've called for help on this or that or especially something computer related. And I know better because of all of the many, many times I've had to make those calls. Still ,Mom swears it to be true and has learned that coming to ME for a second opinion is usually no different than going to dad.
Sometimes I am proud of this fact...other times, I'm proud of this fact.
What can I say, he's a smart guy.
Even when I was a teenager in the full throes of rebellion, I could usually see where he was coming from, but since I was blessed with his strong sense of stubbornness as well, I could usually press forward with little side effects of common sense getting through.
When I struggle with things, I find myself wondering if he has struggled with the same questions too, and I usually assume that he has and that is how he already has an answer waiting for me, when I ask.
It has gotten so that, even before I ask, or as I begin to utter my ponderings aloud, I know what it is he will (or would) say and I feel all the sillier for admitting I have a belly button, much less gazing at it for SO long.
All of that as a precursor to something that may seem unrelated, but to me fits perfectly - this thought I had last night:
I love that my dad's favorite verse of scripture isn't the classic fall back: John 3:16 but rather John 3:17 and the idea that follows...we were condemned already...we forget that sometimes...pointing a finger at a God we feel is unfair.
But He isn't.
And I suppose I love it because there must be a reason behind his settling on that passage as his favorite and I suppose I could ask him specifically, but then again, I probably already know what he would say.