It never occurred to me I’d be playing a game where you have to “satisfy the foot.” (In fact, my feet are sadly neglected.) Last night I learned Chickenfoot Dominoes. It’s easy enough for coincident teasing and banter, but provides mild brain exercise.
Call me corny, but my feet weren’t the only ones satisfied. My heart swelled as I gazed around at the table of ten: this one’s having a landmark birthday; that one’s recovering from a car accident; this one’s a bit tired after a week at work (we all were); that one’s health issue is progressing; this one is competitive; this one has a contagious belly laugh; that one finally just got a job; that one may or may not be sneaking in extra turns; and that one was like me—relishing every moment.
I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.
It was 30 years ago, but I vividly remember this dramatic change. For a quarter century I had been a royal piece of work—mostly cranky and disrespectful. Then God replaced my stony heart with a heart of flesh. That very week, on my daily walk through the metropolis, I found myself flabbergasted, looking left and right. “I love every one of these people!” Call me corny, but I know it’s a miracle. (Just ask my sisters.)
People are lovely. Even now, as I regale you with details of a simple evening with friends, playing a game that relies solely on coincidence of the draw, I get a warm fuzzy. I was reminded this morning of another group of friends. One of their loved ones will soon be with the Lord. Over this time, I’ve observed certain ones in that family being drawn together. I expect that they, like me, are a little bit corny: every moment—every person—is precious.
Today is Sunday. You have time this afternoon, right? Go find those dominoes.