If you've hung around these parts for anytime at all, then you are familiar with this fella.
Well, Dear Ole Jim-Dad jetted off on an adventure yesterday. He packed up his newly purchased cargo pants (because someone told him that that's what true "adventurers" do); laced up his brand spankin' new walking shoes; loaded up his fanny-pack (yes...a fanny pack) with enough batteries for his camera to rival Chernobyl; and boarded a plane.
A plane that is taking him somewhere he's never been before.
A plane that will place my daddy, in his shiny new cargo pants and New Balance tennis shoes, right on the soil where his precious Savior walked a couple of thousand years ago.
Jim-Dad will be walking by the Sea of Galilee touching the same sand that nurtured Jesus' rugged sandals.
He'll meander through the Garden of Gethsemane placing his fingers on the same rocks that supported Jesus' elbows as He prayed.
He'll walk the roads. Smell the smells. Taste the tastes. And breathe the air.
And I know he'll never be the same.
And I'm so completely and ecstatically happy for him.
And just a'might green with envy.
If you think to do so, please lift a prayer or two up for not only the safety of Jim-Dad and the group he's traveling with, but also for the hearts of the people that they will come in contact with during the weeks they are there.
I covet your prayers for him. And I know he would, too.