Sometimes, I like to work outside. I’ll take a lawn chair and a little card table and set it under the cherry tree, and then I’ll do whatever it is I need to do. What I had to do today was work on a translation of Mark. Now, I need a lot of books for a job like this. I brought out my grammar, my vocabulary guide, my lexicon, my other grammar, my other lexicon. However, before I set out from the cloistered comfort of my room, I double checked my pile of books to make sure I wasn’t forgetting anything. It really is a hassle, once everything is all set up, to have to trudge back inside after something you’ve forgotten.
Anyway, I busied myself for an hour or so, avoiding the real work by the aid of a few minor tasks, mostly quizzing myself on forms and vocabulary. But, I had to get to work at some point. So, I set up all my books on the little card table and . . . I had forgotten the Bible. Yep, I had forgotten the one book that was central to what I was doing, primary you might say, was the whole reason I was out here, the one book that gave the other books their purpose.
There’s a lesson there, somewhere, I’m sure of it.
Oh well, it’s not like I left Jesus behind in the temple or something egregious like that.
Tale Told 