Opinion

It’s true that here at Beyond Reason, we occasionally make fun of things. Bunting. Cornhole. My 7-year-old daughter. But perhaps the leitmotif — the running joke readers have come to expect — is on pickleball.

One of the first songs concerning God many of us learned was, "Jesus Loves Me". After that we probably learned to interlock our fingers and make a steeple with our index fingers, doors with our thumbs and then repeat, “Here is the church, here is the steeple, open the doors and see all the people.” No doubt it was well meaning people that taught us these things but it set us up for failure.

I sat on the tailgate of my truck and just soaked up the sun. What little breeze there was ruffled my long, overgrown hair but it didn’t matter. I was outside breathing fresh clean air and I wanted nothing more. Thankful; was an understatement.

I know it’s not Easter. And even if it were, it’s been decades since I went on a bonafide egg hunt. I’m usually the one hiding the eggs, not finding them. But that all changed a few weeks ago when Rick and I were on vacation.

I believe it was Justin Bieber who once asked: Is it too late now to say sorry? I can’t tell you his conclusion because I have not listened to the whole song. I mean, I’ve started the song and it’s come to an end, but the mind wanders.

For some people, August is not a month. For some people, August is a waiting room. There’s just not a lot of professional sports on television. Basketball’s on summer vacation. Hockey’s long gone. And football doesn’t start until September.

I have a friend named Wes and he’s the real deal. He loves God and He loves people (Mark 12:30 & 31). It does not get any more real than that.