A Shot Of Fate

We have had a string of rainy days here in Northern Colorado, so much so that I have several clusters of mushrooms huddled in my front yard looking like a tourist group of bewildered spirits summoned from Sheol. But since we live in a high desert, most summers bring water restrictions in our county, so we are all very grateful.

It has, however, begun to interfere with with picnics, parties and landscaping plans, and the general sentiment is this mana from heaven has overstayed its welcome. My how quickly gratitude molds.

As I was preparing for my own evening of entertainment, having invited handfuls of my coworkers over for a soiree, I could feel my own gratitude begin to molder.

Don’t know about you, but I never know how to approach prayer for things like this. On the one hand, I am a son and sons can ask their Father for anything. On the other, there is the allure of mystery in not asking for particulars.

Lets say that you knew God would grant your request. Ask for sun rays and dry grass and it will be given unto you. Your gathering will proceed as planned, drinks will be drunked and food will be funked, and a good time had by all.

But what if you put this certainty on the table and instead said something like “Thy will be done,” not because you didn’t care, but completely for the sake of adventure. Perhaps God will concoct some genius plan involving a drizzly afternoon and guests sardine jammed into a shoebox house that would not have been in the spacious backyard under sunny skies? If you could see a forecast of God’s plans, would you still pray for sun?

I’m not knocking one way or another, but there is a dispositional difference in the attitude towards life. In one, a man living in a climate controlled house, complete with four walls and a roof, who knows the chances of rain by the hour, planning a picnic accordingly. The other, a man who takes the sun with the rain, the sweat with the chill, the dew with the dry, and thanks the Maker as he ties his smile to the day’s destiny. That’s just what happens when you live amongst the fur on the back of dynamic and living creature such as Earth.

Me, I like a shot of fate with my faith.

There is something of an elemental mysteriousness that intrigues. Do we order the predictable Shirley Temple with an extra cherry, or will we say to the bartender, “Make me something special, Sam” and then anticipate some heady adventure as he winks, puts on the rubber gloves and reaches for hard stuff on the top shelf?