GLEN & EVOLUTION

( Glen )

    It was the evening of the second day of Fall in Peterborough, New Hampshire, and I was sitting my my front porch enjoying the warmth of the setting sun as I watched my neighbor across the street sweat the mowing of his lawn. I was sipping a glass of Merlot, designated as the dessert to a delicious dinner prepared by my wonderful wife Denise, a humble culinary genius. By chance, my attention was drawn to the post cap on the porch railing closest to me.  I was surprised and delighted to see Glen looking at me as he perched precariously atop the post cap. I don't know how I knew that this hairy caterpillar of unknown species had been bestowed the name Glen, but I decided that was his name; and thus, knew it as sure as I know that the Lord God Almighty had blessed me with Glen's presence, and indeed what a blessing Glen was! For even though I didn't know why Glen had ventured to the top of the porch post, his presence there gave me pause to marvel at his hairy and prickly-looking beauty and intricacy of design. A design of mind boggling stupendousness, encoded by an awesome God in the medium of the DNA molecule. Information so unfathomably complex and unimaginably precise, that it perfectly determined the frontal-lobe-numbing complex composition of each cell of of each appendage, leg, organ and hair on his sixteen-footed, segmented, hair-studded tubular body.

    He was just sitting there, motionless as though engulfed in sleep, deep contemplation or satisfaction at his having climbed such a daunting edifice as the porch railing post, or maybe he was just plain exhausted from that goal achieved. I don't know for sure which it was, but I soon decided that, "Surely Glen would be happier down in the grass where he'd be less visible to a hungry bird and more likely to find food for himself," and coaxed him onto my finger; whereupon, I conveyed him a good eight feet away and downward, in proximity to the granite step to the porch, where I gently prodded him into the lush green, freshly cut grass and returned to my porch rocker and another sip of Merlot.

    I then became transfixed in contemplating God's creative genius, as exemplified in a creature as "simple" a Glen, and marveled at the unsurpassed, mountain moving faith possessed by the zealots that adhere to the pagan religion of evolution. I felt jealous of their unparalleled faith as manifested in their belief in the mythical and unscientific doctrine fundamental to their mythology-dependent and faith-rich religion. A doctrine that blasphemes the scientific law of causality and asserts that the mind-numbing complex information contained in Glen's DNA, a prerequisite for his very existence, somehow can appear sans a source of incomprehensible intelligence. "Ah! If only I had that much faith!" I thought. "God could use me to raise the dead, make the cancer afflicted cancer-free, the lame to walk, the deaf to hear and the blind to see!"

    The sun dipped just below the horizon, masked by the silhouettes of tree tops as I sipped the last swallow of Merlot and praised God for seeing fit to help me appreciate his might and glory as embodied in Glen. I imagined Glen to now be slowly interweaving through endless blades of grass on his way to some unplanned destination, and lacking the cognitive prowess necessary for knowing why he was even going anywhere at all, when my "gasted" was "flabbered" to see Glen, again! He was tenaciously and with gravity-defying determination, making his way up and over the porch railing post cap; whereupon, he soon reclaimed his Mount Everest-like conquering position on the summit of smooth, snow white vinyl. He then undulated on his eight padded and eight pointy feet over to the far side of the post cap where he positioned himself to watch, with some sadness, I imagined, the sunset he longed to see but missed because I thought he'd be happier in a grassy forest of shadows and foreboding, dark crevasses.



    I felt sad for Glen and angry at myself for his missing the sunset. Then I rejoiced in the thought that perhaps Glen would soon engulf himself in a cocoon and emerge later as a beautiful butterfly, one that would view God's beautiful sunsets from fluttering wings of the Almighty's design. Wings that would whip the air in subtle pneumatic praises to an awesome and merciful God who showers us daily in his undeserved loving kindness and the company of his praise-inducing creatures like Glen.