Becoming Aware of the Fleeting Clouds of Life
Jodi Detrick
I’m always amazed at the creative ways people come up with to make a buck. Through the years, I’ve bought my share of household gadgets (It slices! It dices! It cleans itself and brings you pancakes in bed!) that didn’t quite live up to the hawker’s claims.
With the economy still being so iffy these days, I have my own brilliant notion for a moneymaker. You know those ads that come out every holiday season, urging you to name a star after your loved one? Star Registries, they’re called. Being a true Pacific Northwesterner, my own entrepreneurial spinoff plan has a distinctive regional flair. My new perfect gift idea? Wait for it … wait for it … Cloud Registries! Ta-daaaa!
Where we live, it makes perfect sense, doesn’t it? I can hear the radio spot now: For only $49.95 you can have a cloud named after your loved one! What better way to show you care than to put their name up in the air! My paying customers will receive their own laminated picture of an authentic Pacific Northwest cloud with their name, like Shirley or Edna, printed across the top. (I would do picture frames but, hey, this is a startup. Gotta watch those production costs.)
Just when I think this scheme could secure our retirement, my practical husband points out to me the transitory nature of clouds. I’m not sure why that should matter. Most people never even actually see the exact stars that are supposed to bear their names. Here, we are almost always guaranteed a view of plenty of clouds, no telescope required. So what if the Ralph or Betty clouds don’t stick around for long. I learned in the fifth grade about the rain cycle and how the same water is reused to make new clouds over and over again. My business idea is green from the start!
OK, I’ll take my tongue out of my cheek and give the Cloud Registry idea a rest. It’s ridiculous for people to spend hard-earned money on something that is here one minute and evaporates (or drips away) the next. Yet in some ways, I see people doing that all around me, every day. In fact, I am guilty of it.
The Bible asks an important question in Isaiah 55:2: Why do you spend money for what is not bread, and your wages for what does not satisfy? After all, we trade our time and labor for money.
So, when I pour all my efforts into building a career while, night after night, my kids press their noses and their longing up against a window, waiting vainly for me to come home (or to be present when I am home), am I not buying a cloud? When I can’t remember the last meaningful conversation I had with my spouse or my friend but I can tell you details about all the characters from my favorite reality-TV shows, am I not overpaying dearly for an evaporating mist? And when I invest my resources in chasing leisure and acquiring things, yet never quite find time or energy to pursue faith — to investigate the claims of Christ or gather with those who are serious about their spiritual journey — could I be spending extravagant chunks of life on (as the Isaiah verse says) that which does not satisfy?
Interestingly enough, another verse (James 4:14) uses a cloud analogy to describe how short human life is and how we need to consult God’s will before glibly making our own plans: For what is your life? It is even a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away.
We don’t have to buy clouds — we are clouds, when it comes to how quickly life passes. Just ask any 80-somethings and they’ll tell you it seems like yesterday they were your age. With that in mind, I think I’ll try to stay out of the cloud selling, and buying, business.
Jodi Detrick, MACM, is an ordained minister with the Assemblies of God and Chairperson for the Network for Women in Ministry. A religion columnist for The Seattle Times she has written for many different publications. Jodi earned a master’s degree from Assemblies of God Theological Seminary where she is currently in a doctoral program.
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Jodi Detrick