What Hail's Got

That's a lie.  I don't understand its worth yet.

Man's greatest failure is waking up every morning with the sun beaming through his window shades - a glorious, magnificent anomaly continually occurring afresh every day - laying there procrastinating his rising from bed to go about labor and toil, lunch hours and commutes home; he procrastinates for as long as he can taking in deep breaths of new September air proclaiming in his reliefed-sighs, "Life!"  He adds on all exclamation he can muster up at 7 AM breathing in life and more life until he loses the revelation that he is living, rises from bed, and goes about his day as normally as he always has.  The failure here is that he does not acknowledge Christ's death - which happened in order to bring us new life - in any of his risings then comings and goings.  He merely putters along constantly distracted and taken by full schedules.

But the greater failure is in the one who acknowledges God, sees how He has carried the dawn to its place, experiences a fullness of life with every breath, and still goes about routined-life just as the previous gentleman did: ignorantly oblivious.

I am that latter failure on most days.  And this is why I say I do not fully understand the worth of the treasure I'm fumbly-keeping.  I wish I did.  I wish so much that I would see the kingdom of heaven hidden amongst the same-old of every day, stop what I'm doing, momentarily marvel over its (lack for a better word) beauty, say, "I'll be back in 5-minutes," retreat back to the norm, splash water on my face to see if this is all real, realize I am already awake and what I just found is real, figure out how to sell everything I own and that is me, go ahead and yard-sale it or put it up on Craig's List or EBAY, run back to the place in my normal where I found this (for lack of a better word) beauty, and buy it up.

If it were in a field, like Matthew's account tells us, I wish I would buy that field.

If it were on the side of a highway I would actually, for once in my life, go up to one of those signs gleefully stating, "Adopt A Highway," when you don't even know what that means, find the telephone number, dial it, speak with the highway adoption agency, adopt my strip of pavement, and close off the exits on either side of that route so no more traffic would barrel on through.  And if it got me in trouble then so be it because nothing else would matter at that point.  Plus, I would just show the authorities my adoption papers.

See, I don't understand this treasure's worth yet, but I want to...