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Avalanche Bay

Dana received a gift certificate to a resort/water park recently.  So…we resorted to the water park.  It was a really nice place with all kinds of fancy going on.  You could tell that most of the people staying at the resort were people who didn’t flinch at paying waaaay too much for a hot dog.  Really nice shorts that are clearly pressed, haircuts that were not done in the bathroom with a pair of clippers, and carrying around their putter with a little jacket on it (to keep it warm, I think) – are just some of the reasons that I could tell they wouldn’t flinch at paying too much for a hot dog…if they ate hot dogs.

Boyne Mountain...looking down at the resort.

That was the resort.  The water park obviously drew a different crowd – the crowd I’m a part of.  Families with little kids, people who look like I do in a pair of swim trunks, and women far more interested in caring for their kids than their hair.  My kind of people.

Fearing Nothing!

I sincerely enjoy water parks…not because I love water slides, which I do, but because I love to watch people and how they interact in those situations.  It’s a place where dads get to be super-heroes: they get to lug innertubes up 72 stairs about 40 times a day…they get to catch the little gal or guy as they come out of the kiddie slide…they make the trek across the water park to buy ice cream for everyone and come back lighter in the wallet and heavier around the waistline.

Here’s something else I enjoy seeing: tattoos.

I don’t have any, but I’m a little jealous.  I wish I had one, but I just don’t know what would stand the test of time.  For instance: I saw one that was written boldly across a man’s back from shoulder to shoulder that read “INDEPENDENT”.  OK, I thought.  You’re independent.  But he was spending time with his tattooed wife and his sweet little girl.  He seemed to have turned in his independent days and cashed them in for something that paid out in something more meaningful.

I also saw a guy that had put on a few pounds and was clearly not “toned” like he used to be.  He looked like a 6 foot version of me.  The difference was he had a tattoo of barbed wire around his bicep.  The problem was that his bicep was anything but springsteel.  The barbed wire wasn’t as sharp as it used to be.

It made me think that I want to print something that will last.  I want to adhere to myself something that will be meaningful as I age…maybe even something that will get better with age.  I want to show forth something in my person that can make sense when I’m in a nursing home and being helped to the bathroom and someone is wiping drool off my chin.  I don’t think “INDEPENDENT” or barbed wire does the trick for me.  How about the resemblence of Christ in my actions and words?  How about sinking the ink of scripture into my heart?  How about just the humble explanation of who I am given by my children as they come to visit me and remind me of who I am and whose I am.

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