Children get yelled at by their parents. Like when I used to blow bubbles in my soda through the straw. This usually took place at Shoney's, Big Boy, or some other restaurant that let kids eat for free on Wednesday's nights. I was relentless, I loved ruining that carbonated drink with a fury of breath sent down through the straw. I loved getting a reaction out of my parents when I would end up splashing the soda onto my chin. My parents would scold me for it. My dad would grab my shoulder and give me a harmless but forceful jolt, "Lance, cut it out." Yet, I blew bubbles into the soda. It was a furious storm of bubbles.
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Some people think that God breathes life into the creation, human beings specifically. There is dirt, then God breathes out, and the dirt begins to dance because of the breathe of life that has been given. The dirt becomes a person. The person dances about for a while, meets other people, maybe even realizes that God breathed people into existence. The person continues to dance, but eventually God's breathe is no longer an exhale. The breathe that once made the dirt dance is now being sucked back by God.
God breathes out. And in.
God gives. And takes.
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Sometimes I feel like soda. Like I am being blown around. Like a furious storm is happening to me. Like God is some little kid blowing into a straw.
This is absurd.
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