Yesterday, as I was in Gage Park, I walked to the pond just north of the carousel. There’s a couple of benches on the north side of the pond, and I like to stop there for a few minutes when I go to the park.
The Gage Park train went by a couple of times while I was there. I thought the engineer, who doubles as a sightseeing guide, had a rather bothersome voice, but the folks on the train seemed to like it.
A red-winged blackbird sat on a bare branch of a tree and practiced his many and varied calls and songs. Evidently, he was preparing for some kind of concert, as he appeared to be rather serious about his work.
A couple walked by, hand in hand, talking about something that I assume was important to them. I couldn’t hear the conversation well enough to make out what they were saying.
A bullfrog was chasing after the missus (or soon to be missus) through the reeds and mud of the bank of the pond. He went a’croaking as he hopped along behind her. She always managed, however, to stay a hop or two ahead of him.
Nothing extraordinary was going on in the park that day. The carousel spun a few times, cars went by once in awhile, and things were, all in all, rather normal.
I got to thinking today that those things would have occurred just as they did, even if I wouldn’t have been there. Sometimes I think we think that these things happen for our benefit, and in a way, I guess, they do. But things also carry on whether we’re alive or dead, here or there, present or absent.
We’re not really as important in the overall scheme of things as we sometimes think we are. Isn’t it nice to know, though, that Jesus loves me so much that He would have died for me, even though I had been the only human who had ever sinned?
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