there's a little pen-and-ink drawing that sits by my computer on my desk, nestled between clay cups reminding me of the oppressed dalit in india, framed photographs of family and friends, and little wooden animals from west africa. it's such a simple thing, taking up only half of a quarter sheet of paper (which, i suppose would technically be an eighth of a sheet for those who might be counting).

amidst the clutter of pits of paper, books, nursing manuals, and yellow sticky notes, it catches the light of the lamp and reflects it back with the shining white brightness of industrially produced office paper. it's not much, but then i suppose it would never claim to be - the casual doodling of a dear friend. and yet even in its infinite simplicity, it holds so much. the memory of my friend linked to the memories of countless adventures galavanting in a country halfway around the world.

i wonder if god sometimes looks at us that way: look at that simple little thing, so small and individual in the clutter of the world, and yet such a profound reminder. a reminder of the infinite love which motivated the life, death, and resurrection of my son. a reminder of a time when we walked together in the garden such a very long time ago.

i'd like to think so...