Christ Animated

Phwift, phwift, phwift, phwift. You could hear me coming at least a block away. Pair my considerable childhood heft — as opposed to my very considerable adulthood heft — with the popularity and ready availability of corduroy pants in the 1970s, and there was no way I could ever sneak up on anyone. I’m not sure what size pants I wore, but they were never mistaken as my older, smaller brother’s pants. Maybe mistaken for his Cub Scout tent, but never as his pants. I do know that I was a bit surprised to find out there was a breed of dog called a Husky. I thought that was just the kind of pants I owned. If you’re not familiar with corduroy pants, do three things for me: 1.     Say a prayer of thanks to God. 2.     Google them. 3.     Ask someone who’s over the age of 40 if they ever got to wear them, and watch their eyes roll and listen to the groans escape as they respond with, “Got to? You mean, had to?” Wearing corduroy presented some problems for little boys of girth. When your

Pray for her, right now. He heard the voice clearly, and knew immediately it was for his daughter. A young teenager, she was out riding her bicycle. He slipped from his seated spot on the couch older than the girl to a spot on his knees and put his head on his folded hands. Oh, God, help my daughter, he prayed earnestly. Whatever's going on, please keep her safe. While he was still praying, the carport door swung open and the girl walked in, cradling her arm. She'd ridden too close to the edge of the highway and took a spill into a concrete culvert. She thought her arm was broken, but was alright otherwise. Thank you, God, he prayed aloud.