He gave the world a once over and nodded approvingly. “This is good,” he said to himself as he stepped lightly through a field of grass, looking around at all he had made. He approached a barren piece of earth and when he saw the rich orange clay on the ground, his eyes lit up with an idea. Lowering himself to the ground, he thought of how he was going to create something so beautiful that even his own breath would be taken away. He beckoned the rain with a whisper and watched as droplets pooled and clay swirled into streams of oranges and reds. As the heavens opened and water saturated the land, his knees sunk into the muddled mix.
When he hushed the rain, he reached his hands into the orange earth, feeling the clay fill the spaces between his fingers. He grabbed handfuls of the mixture and began shaping, patting, smoothing edges and curves. Every so often he would rock back on his heels, wipe his sweating brow with the back of his hand, and observe. Not yet satisfied, his orange stained hands would dig in deeper, taking care to get every line, every angle just right.
At long last he stood, wiped off his knees and hands, and gazed down at his masterpiece. He spoke softly, quiet yet assured, “This is very good.”
Once more he crouched, leaning in closely. Taking his creation into his arms, he exhaled a breath so gentle and so full that it awakened the heart of man. Molded clay slowly turned to joint and marrow, flesh stretched over muscles, new lungs inhaled deeply. Eyes blinked open, the face of the Father coming into focus. Beaming with pride and delight, the Father’s eyes welled with tears that fell silently down his face.
After timeless, endless moments of gazing at his creation, the Father spoke. “You are so beautiful, my son. I have never loved anything as much as I love you.” Taking the son by the hand, the Father showed him all that was his inheritance, and in that single act of love all of creation shifted.