Monday, March 21, 2011
I am such a liar. How many days has it been? Two? I left the house. I swore I wouldn't. The Tennis Channel, if you remember, has come to live in my house. It is true that I have watched -- or fallen asleep watching -- hours of tennis over the past few days. In fact, I kept trying to watch the Indian Wells men's final and either had to leave or fell asleep (at 5:37 a.m.) several times and now, tonight, it was on again and I saw almost all of it -- but looked away at the last second. I missed the last point. So isn't that the way it is. We miss the last point. Or the best point. Or the point, period. What is the point? Now there's a question for you. What is the point? Pick one, you say. Well, how about this. Life is hard. Life is breast cancer and leukemia and babies born with half a heart. Life is lung cancer and getting laid off and being hit in the head. Life is tsunami's and wars and murder. Life is also Glee and floating on your back in the warm pool and exquisite prose and welcome praise. Life is restitution and reconciliation. Life is right and wrong. Life is loss and gift. Life is all of these things. Disappointment, change, reward, perfect tiny toes, brilliant new ideas, chaos, rescued Clydesdale horses who foundered are recovered and running in a green pasture. Life is it all. That's the point. And it's all one. We live within all of it. And one way or another, this is the real point: it's all grace. You have got to be kidding. Nope.