One summer evening dad and I sat on our front lawn and gazed at the field across the road.
Like a huge orange-red host, the sun sank slowly into the chalice of the earth. Its beauty inspired us.
Thoughtfully, dad said, “You know, we really don’t own anything.”
I quickly remembered the list of names on the deed to our land. Owner after owner paraded across the field of my memory. Then I realized that we were just stewards of the land. The real owner was God
This made an ordinary evening special. I felt close to dad.
