A few years back, my uncle stood with my cousin and me on the banks of the Brokenstraw Creek that ran through Youngsville. He advised us to fish for trout in the bend where it gets deep. He had given us similar advice before, but what struck me was how he punctuated his advice. "You boys oughta float some night crawlers where the riffles begin to even out." Boys. There I was a thirty-something man with three kids so appreciative to be called a boy.
In Man's Search for Meaning by Victor Frankl, there is a scene that has stuck with me since I first came across it. Frankl describes the horrid conditions of Auschwitz -- how the sky was gray, the tattered uniforms were gray, the snow was gray -- but off in the distance in a house on the side of a hill, someone turned on a light. This one light broke through the grayness of his existence, and defying all that he was up against, gave him hope.
Interesting
ReplyDelete