WACKY WEDNESDAY WISDOM- From the Mouths of Babes

     You many know from reading some of my Wacky posts in the past, I enjoy putting on my waders and trudging my way through the branch of the local river near my house on warm summer nights in hopes of fooling hungry catfish. You may also know that I am normally unaccompanied on these fishing treks- except for the crickets, frogs, otters, snakes, beavers, cranes, bats, raccoons, and bobcats who show up to keep me company. Okay, the bobcat only showed up once on the other side of the bank but I feel it's worth mentioning.

     Add to that the fact I occasionally land some sizable catfish and you can see why I'm drawn to the experience. And don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining about the animals. It's their home turf, I'm the intruder.  

     Catfish aren't the only things I catch. Due to the inordinate amount of trees, branches, and sticks that work their way to the bottom of the river, I tend to sacrifice two or three hook and sinker set ups to the unseen depths of the river on each venture. Despite bringing extras, sometimes I simply give up and head back home, especially if I've already landed a fish or two. 

     Such was the case recently when I convinced my youngest son JT (20 years old now) to accompany me on a late summer evening of river wading and fishing. We ended up snagging more branches than fish, to the point where we finally gave up and laid out on a rock in the middle of the river and stared at the stars.

     It was a perfect summer night. The afternoon heat had given way to a warm and balmy evening. The sound of the flowing water deflecting off the rocks and gently slapping the boulder on which we rested was calming and tranquil. Soothing enough that suddenly we both felt the urge to bond with nature by going to the bathroom (number 1) but we decided against it. (Sanitary reasons). 

     Instead we laid back on the rock and gazed up at the twinkling stars while basking in their wonder. For the record, moments like these are few and far between for a father whose three sons have all grown up and flown the coop- a "Cats in the Cradle" kinda thing. My sons lead busy lives. Apparently they do important stuff all day and all night long. And though I have no doubt they love their dad, we just don't have near as many "moments" like we used to when they were boys. 

     So I, trying to suck all the moment I could out of the opportunity at hand, posed a question concerning the wondrous concert of stars at which we were peering. "I wonder why God made all those stars when they're so far away and don't really serve any purpose for us."

     At this point, I was expecting any number of responses from a college student who, among many of his traits, has been blessed with quick wit and an unoffensive sarcasm that is endearing without being annoying. With that in mind, I awaited his response, knowing full well I was bound to experience a chuckle or possibly even a belly clutching laugh. 

     Instead there was a long pause as neither of us spoke. Eventually he broke the silence. "I think I know why God made the stars," he began. "So that me and you could look up at them and talk about them." Then silence again. 

     No punch line. No sarcasm. Only simple, profound wisdom. Maybe he's figured it out better than any scientist ever could. Maybe God created the heavens simply so fathers and sons could look at them together. And mothers and daughters. And anybody else who would dare take the time to pause and gaze at their wonder. 

     Isaiah 40:26 says "Lift up your eyes and look to the heavens: Who created all these? He who brings out the starry host one by one and calls forth each of them name by name. Because of His great power and mighty strength, not one of them is missing."

     They say from the mouths of babes come truth and wisdom. I don't know exactly who they are, but I think they may be right. Psalms 8:2 talks about God's strength within the mouth of babes, meaning that in a child's simple and innocent wonder lies the truest form of worship.
     The problem with babes is that they grow up too fast. At some point you wonder if the hour upon hour of parenthood all those years was worth it. Then one starry evening you find yourself lying on a giant rock in the middle of the river gazing up at the sky and a son utters words that cause a silent tear to run down your cheek. A joyful tear that knows it's all been worth it. Oh, from the mouth of babes . . . even when they're not babes anymore.