Well, I never heard back from the Greenway Contest to artistically enhance the Methane Pipes along the path. So I guess my giraffe idea didn't grab them. I presume by now the artists have been chosen and other creative artsy contraptions will be soon rearing their heads along the Matthews Greenway. I passed one of those ugly, still unenhanced methane pipes on our walk on the Greenway yesterday, and remembered the contest.
"I guess my giraffe wasn't chosen," I said, to any and all who would listen.
"You're not the only artist in the world," reminded my encouraging companion,"Maybe the other ideas were better."
"Or maybe everyone submitted giraffes."
I hope that wasn't the case. I hate being *usual*. Does everyone see a giraffe in a methane pipe?
Perhaps it is for the best, however. I had begun to worry a little about the effects of being up close to the unseen but deadly outpouring of methane gas. It would've taken me a good bit of time to transform the green metal pipe and concrete base into a convincing giraffe. Imagine all the methane that I would have had to breathe in during that process. Besides, I have begun writing my third book in earnest and really didn't need the distraction of giraffe painting, no matter how noble an endeavor that might be.
As we walked on the greenway, we had a small disagreement over which way to go, north or south. I wanted to go north, as I felt we would see more creatures. I was outvoted. We went south. I warned my family we better not walk far, as I felt certain it was going to rain. I was naysayed. We were about 20 minutes out when it began to rain. Fortunately, the rain chased the other people away, and it brought out the bullfrogs. Up until that point, we had not seen a single fauna, just as I had predicted. But with the rain, all along the path, we passed giant green bullfrogs sitting like little Buddhas in the swamp. I wouldn't have minded the rain but I was concerned about my phone in my pocket. However, on the tree lined path, it was like walking under a leafy umbrella, and by the time we hit the more exposed boardwalk, the sun came back out. The frogs hopped away and burrowed back in their mud. We passed another ugly methane pipe. A large painted turtle was along the path edge. We paused to put him a little deeper in the foliage out of the reach of bicycles racing along the Greenway.
I thought about transformations- the transformation of the ugly pipe in my mind to a smile-invoking giraffe, the transformation of the blue sky to a grey rain, the transformation of the empty swamps to one teeming with bull frogs, and then the transformation of the rain soaked pathway to one glinting in golden sunlight, the transformation of a sinful, lonely soul to a child of God, washed clean by redemptive love. I thought about how there are days when little disagreements, like whether to go North or South on a pathway, or to turn around before the rain, have led to blowups totally out of proportion to the incident. We all know how those seemingly little things can get under our skin and abscess. It doesn't need to be that way. We can be transformed. The rain doesn't need to bring despair. It can bring bullfrogs, and turtles, and when the sun shines, we might laugh at visions of giraffes shimmering on the horizon.
But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ, who, by the power that enables him to bring everything under his control, will transform our lowly bodies so that they will be like his glorious body.
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