Dust To Dust

The Bible (as I understand it) says that God created Adam from clay. There is the burial prayer that mentions 'dust to dust', and in Genisis, 'Dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return'. There are some out there, Skeptics they are called, who would have you believe that this is all simply a story, part of a Christian mythology. There are also some out there who would argue that Genesis was a stronger band while Peter Gabriel was singing with them, while the rest of us feel that the band only became stronger when their drummer, Phil Collins stepped up to become their front man. But that is an argument for another day. 
Ashes to ashes. Dust thou art. Skeptics would say this is metaphorical, or allegorical, but I have proof that this is a completely different kind of -orical.


Historical.


Historical fact that we, as a race, as a species, were formed from clay and soil. And I have proof. Not something as dry and dusty (pardon the pun) as research. I am not going to simply extrapolate and infer from what others have said before me; instead, I will document a fact. A modern fact, from yesterday, today, and most likely tomorrow. An ongoing fact that seems so common it is often overlooked for the miracle it is. That miracle?


My son, Handsome.


As he did yesterday, and the day before, and probably will tomorrow, I know that when I get there tonight and check to see if Handsome needs a shower, he will smell of dirt. He will smell of dirt, and soil, and the good clean earth. Well, maybe not so clean, but good all the same.


Now, I know there are those of you out there who are saying that this is no miracle. That a 9 year old boy who smells of dirt is as common as... well, as common as dirt. This, however, is not the miracle; this is but the precursor. The 'herald' of the miracle, if you will. 


Here is the miracle.


When Handsome goes into the bathroom and emerges on the far side of a shower all clean and sparkling, I will walk up to him and I will put the tip of my forefinger beneath his chin, and I will tilt his head back. His chin will rise quite high, the small fold in the skin around his neck will peel open, and there the miracle will be revealed. 
This boy, this son of mine, this son of God's as we are all sons and daughters of His, will swear to me that he got under the water. That it flowed over his body. That he did use soap and did scrub himself all over with the scrubby-thingie (yes, I know it is called a 'loofah', but I have testicles and thus must refer to it as a 'scrubby-thingie). He will swear to it, and I have no reason to doubt him. 
But, if he did all this, if he washed so thoroughly, where did the ring of dirt about his neck come from, that is revealed when I tilt his head back? Did it weather the storm from the shower head? Did it resist the cleansing power of the soap? Did it, perhaps, somehow fight off the abrasiveness of the scrubbie-thingie? Is all this possible?


No.


The only explanation I can come up with is that the soil about the boy's neck is, in essence, oozing forth from his very skin! That it is, in fact, his essence! They say that you are what you eat, but were that true he's be excreting chips and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups from his skin. The dirt must be bubbling up from inside the boy somehow, remnants of the soil and clay he was formed from on the day of his birth! 
I mean, it's either that, or my son is being slightly less than truthful...


A miracle!


Tomorrow I'll tell you how this little miracle-maker brushes his teeth, swears he does a thorough job of it, but the toothbrush remains somehow bone dry and free from fresh toothpaste! Water-into-wine nothing! That's a miracle!


Talk to you later!