Sandcastles

Ecc. 2:18:  Suddenly I realized that others would someday get everything I had worked for so hard, then I started hating it all. 

 Max Lucado writes:

'A little boy is on the beach. He packs the sand with plastic shovels into a bright red bucket. Then he upends the bucket and a sandcastle is created.

A man is in his office. He shoves papers into stacks and delegates assignments. Numbers are juggled, contracts are signed, and a profit is made. 

Two builders - two castles. They see nothing and make something. And for both, the tide will rise and the end will come.

Yet that's where the similarities end. For the boy sees the end while the man ignores it. Watch the boy as dusk approaches. As the waves near, the wise child begins to clap. There is no sorrow. No fear. No regret. He knew this would happen. He is not surprised. And when the great breaker finally crashes upon his castle and his masterpiece is sucked into the sea, he smiles, picks up his tools, takes his father's hand, and goes home. The grown-up however, is not so wise. As the wave of years collapses on his castle, he is terrified. He hovers over the sandy monument he protected. He blocks the waves from the walls he has made. Salt-water-soaked and shivering, he scowls at the incoming tide. "It's my castle," he defies. The ocean need not respond. Both know to whom the sand belongs... and I don't know much about sandcastles. But children do.

Watch them and learn.

'Go ahead and build, but build with a child's heart. When the sun sets and the tides takes -applaud. Salute the process of life, then take your Father's hand and go home.'