Pragmatism at Its Finest

There are 2 things that play a huge part in defining me:

1. I'm pragmatic. Almost to the point of taking it too far, sometimes.
2. I remember the face of my father.

As a pragmatist, I am willing to admit that, in spite of deeply held beliefs, not a one of us knows what happens when we die. Anyone devout ~ and I include devout atheists here ~ will tell you they know exactly what happens when we die. Hell, I truly and with my whole heart believe I know.

But the truth is ~ we don't.

As a woman who remembers the face of her father, I also remember how deeply his Christianity defined who he was. And not the sick, twisted Christianity that has become so prevalent in the last several years, but true Christianity. That which follows the teaching of Christ.

So yesterday, in spite of the fact that Easter really is a random Sunday to me any longer, I gave a nod to my dad. Appreciated his belief that this was the day that promised he and I would be together again. And drank a toast to his memory ~ and our eventual reunion.



Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.