There was time in my schedule, so I watched a show I have seen before. My children used to often beg for me to read books they already knew by heart, and I did. But sometimes I wondered how it kept their interest. I had no judgment about their taste in literature, nor their intelligence. But I confess to feeling sheepish about my own. Why do I want to see an episode when I already know how it turns out? Surely there is dialogue I missed the first time, and subtleties that went over my head. Listening again helps me pick up the nuance. 

 

Plus, I am not scared. 

 

What I mean is, those nail biters that made me clutch the arms of the chair no longer do. I know how it turns out. I can breathe with the woman who is facing cancer, or the man whose heart is broken. The part of the story they are in now is painful. But I am in on the secret. 

 

Admittedly, I am not partial to those fiasco dramas in which all the good guys perish. It would be awful to watch those once, let alone twice. But for those characters who eventually find love, and reconciliation, keeping them company for a rough ride is all the excitement I need. 

 

Which is probably how it is for God. He knows how every story ends.