A guy goes to a Franciscan church, knocks on the door, a Franciscan
opens, the guy says, “Will you say a rosary for me for my intention?”
Franciscan says “Sure, what’s your intention?” Guy says, “I want a
Lexus.” And the Franciscan says, “What’s a Lexus?” And the guy says,
“Well forget it, I’ll go to another church.” Goes to the Jesuit church,
knocks on the door, a Jesuit opens up and he says, “Father before I ask
you something, can you tell me, do you know what a Lexus is?” And the
Jesuit says “Sure, top of the line car. A lot of my parishioners drive
it.” He says “I want one.” Jesuit says, “I don’t blame you.” He says,
“Will you say a rosary that I get one?” The Jesuit says, “Sure…what’s a
rosary?”
If you're a football fan, you know what an end run is. From Merriam-Webster:
a football play in which the ballcarrier attempts to run wide around the end of the line We try to "end run" God a lot. I do. I figure I know better. I've got this - no need to worry the Big Guy about such a trivial thing.
Of course, it never works.
Like the puppy above, when we try and evade the tough obstacle (even though we KNOW we will eventually have to do it), we end up - well, off in the bushes.
But oh! How I wished my way worked. I'd love to take a flying leap and land smoothly and gracefully. People would be in awe, as if watching Simone Biles nail a balance beam routine that no one else would even attempt. I would shyly look down and blush - just lightly - and acknowledge (But humbly! Oh so humbly!) my achievement.
But no: I am the one pulling myself out of the bushes, scratches all over my legs and twigs in my hair. I'd hear that gentle but loving voice of God saying, &quo…
a football play in which the ballcarrier attempts to run wide around the end of the line We try to "end run" God a lot. I do. I figure I know better. I've got this - no need to worry the Big Guy about such a trivial thing.
Of course, it never works.
Like the puppy above, when we try and evade the tough obstacle (even though we KNOW we will eventually have to do it), we end up - well, off in the bushes.
But oh! How I wished my way worked. I'd love to take a flying leap and land smoothly and gracefully. People would be in awe, as if watching Simone Biles nail a balance beam routine that no one else would even attempt. I would shyly look down and blush - just lightly - and acknowledge (But humbly! Oh so humbly!) my achievement.
But no: I am the one pulling myself out of the bushes, scratches all over my legs and twigs in my hair. I'd hear that gentle but loving voice of God saying, &quo…
Excellent Elise, (but also true).
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