A Matter of Perspective

We have a family of five visiting us this week, some colleagues of ours who
live and work in Addis Ababa. Last night we took them on a cookout out
beyond our house a few kilometers, to the ridge where we always start a fire
and roast hot dogs and marshmallows. It is usually the highlight of
visitors' trips down to the Omo because of how beautiful it is out there and
watching the sunset from the ridge, but the elements were against us last
night. As soon as we got our fire started, a major wind and dust storm blew
in, knocking over all of our chairs and covering us and our food with a
thick layer of dust. Our kids were oblivious to anything out of the
ordinary--sitting on their mat happily eating their hot dogs as if this is
what life is like everyday. Oh wait, sometimes it is.

On the way home, Caleb put Elsa and our visitors' two younger kids up in the
cab with him to escape the worst of the dust (Ezra turns into a complete
Mama's boy when other people are around and wouldn't be separated). Elsa is
one of those kids who thinks if you breathe you are wonderful, so has been
in heaven ever since these other two kids arrived because she has playmates.
Elsa was enthusiastically trying to tell the other two stories and ask them
questions, and getting rebuffed at every overture. Finally the older girl,
Esther, asked Elsa how old she was. Elsa said "I'm three." Daniel jumped in
quickly and said "Well, I'm four and a half!", and Esther, not to be
outdone, said, "Then I'm the biggest because I'm six!" Elsa sat there for a
minute and then said "Oh. I think though that God is the biggest."

She's got it all figured out, doesn't she?