The Theory of Gravity

 My 17 month old daughter, Elise, has just discovered gravity.  It isn't that she has figured out the equations that explain how fast objects accelerate in gravity, like Isaac Newton.  I would say that she is more like Galileo and understands that if you drop things out of your high chair they eventually hit the ground.  Further, if you drop things from the top of the stairs, they make a huge racket as they clattering all of the way to the bottom.

One of the side effects (benefits?) of gravity is that it gets other people to pay attention to you.

It is interesting that for the most part we must discover things for ourselves.  Certainly there are places we can read about life's lessons.  Somehow those lessons don't stick as well as those learned in the school of hard knocks.

I suppose this is why there are so many self-help books.  Authors who have been through a serious struggle or, have helped others through trials wants to share the things they have learned with others -- and make a little cash in the process.

These books seem to sell well too.  Just about everyone, except for the most narcissistic among us is interested in better themselves, obtaining more friends, losing weight, or having a better marriage.

I am sure these books contain a lot of good information.  Those who are able to apply their recipes for success find benefits.

The problem is that simply improving our own ignorance is only a partial solution at best.  The problem is really putting our knowledge into practice.

Life and books may teach us what works and what doesn't.  It doesn't stop humans from trying the same actions while hoping for different results.  It's as though we think that maybe, just maybe the theory of gravity doesn't apply as much at the top of the stairs as it does when you are seated in your high chair.

The Four Seasons

 

"Just think, Dad," my son, Vincent, told me.  "If Vivaldi had lived in Florida, we wouldn't have had the Four Seasons Concertos!"

"I guess that's true," I said.  "Do you think he would have written two concerti instead, "The Hot and Humid Concerto" followed by the "A Little Cooler Concerto?"

"Probably so," Vincent said as he stuffed some pancake in his mouth.  "It is really fortunate for posterity that he was aware of all four seasons."

I know that people differ on whether they like the Four Seasons by Vivaldi, or whether they believe it is a piece that has been played a bit too much.  It certainly isn't my favorite piece of Baroque music, but I can listen to it on occasion and enjoy it.

I have spoke to enough people who don't enjoy aspect of certain parts of the seasons -- particularly winter.  "Winter, Ugh!"  One lady told me with a look on her face like she had just discovered a mouse in her refrigerator.  "  I hate snow!  And don't get me started on ice!"

I didn't argue with her.  I happen to like snow (not so much ice), but these sorts of conversations don't typically have obvious consensus points.  

I love snow days.  It is a chance to stop for a second, to breathe, and see how beautiful the world looks when smothered in a blanket of white.

More than that, it is a blessing to experience different things.  Having four seasons, both times of cold and darkness as well as heat and light, gives us more experiences to draw from as we minister to the needs of others.

God can use all of these things to mold us into the characters that He desires -- even if we don't enjoy all of the chilly and snowy days along the way.