To dad fum Oogie–it’s chaos, not God, they’ll say

He’s angry at work because customer orders are going late again and again.

She’s mad because the waitress brought her a fork instead of a spoon.

Every moment, the scale moves to and fro. Negativity. Positivity. Evil and good. An unbearable state of grey. And every day we move closer to the grave. That big, secret ending working its way toward us with each step we do or do not take.

None of us get out alive. That’s what the cynics say. The realists. The smart, sometimes condescending people that don’t need faith or love or God or hope—not anything at all—because they’ve got it all figured out. Everyone is stupid. Plain and simple. Easy to wrap it up nice and tidy and forget that where we’ve come from and where we’re going is magical. Something only kids seem to understand.

As I write this, my daughter appears. She’s made me a drawing.

To dad fum Oogie, it says.

There is a sun at the bottom of the page and a sun at the top. There is a flower growing out of the sky and a flower growing out of the ground. In the middle of the page is a giant heart that has hearts for eyes, a musical note for a nose, and hearts for a smile.

For about fifteen minutes tonight, my little girl sat on her bed thinking of nothing else but making something nice for someone else. Her dad.

What did I do for even five minutes today that made that much difference in the world?

What did you do?

It’s hard to believe that a dead baby was found in a dumpster today.

That there was a double-homicide just fifteen miles away.

That a man climbed a giant TV tower to freefall through the sky only to discover his parachute wouldn’t open.

It is chaos, not God, they’ll say. All randomness and nothingness and science and facts and proof and theories and psychology and whatever else they can come up with to make themselves feel like that’ve got a handle on life. That they’re in control.

And tomorrow, they’ll be angry again.

Frustrated because equipment was delivered to the wrong dock.

Disgusted because the cashier at the counter was chewing gum.

But the magic will continue. As it always does. In mysterious ways.

A girl will paint a picture. A boy will share his lunch. Children will keep trying, again and again, to overcome the bad, the evil, the negativity with nothing but innocence and good.

~ K.J.


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