Sandbox

I remember the big sandbox down at Mr. Neil's at the end of the street. All the kids in the neighborhood played there. Now my doctor has a tiny sandbox in her office for patients to mess with while they wait. It is about 10 by 10 inches and maybe one inch deep. It has two little wooden rakes, one with thick straight tines and one with longer, curvy spindley ones, a broom and several little rocks. She says it's a Zen thing. I usually clean up the spilled sand on the edges and on the table. I like the stones to be out from under the sand. I don't like the sand to be up to the edges spilling out. Then I just play with the rakes and make patterns in the sand.

And?

Why sandboxes? Some people play in them for a living and it's hard work.

When I played in the sandbox, I felt safe. Not even a problem with cats using the sandbox as a toilet. Well, possibly what we didn't know didn't hurt us....

Those who play in a sandbox in 2006 may or may not be safe. There are THINGS in the sand. Your job is to look at them and make sure they are not going to hurt you or your friends. If they threaten, your job is to neutralize them, or direct your party elsewhere. You couldn't pay most people enough to take on a job like this.

So I am going to get through this day and encourage my sandbox hero to do the same. One day, this one, this moment, actually, is all we have. We don't have 4 months. We have this moment. What are you going to do with it? Worry about how long 4 months is? Do my work the best I am able. Trust God. Smile. Paint pretty pictures and sell them. And sleep with a clear conscience.