Sandcastles

Sand Castles.....by Max Lucado.

Hot sun. Salty air. Rhythmic waves.A little boy is on the beach.
On his knees he scoops and packs the sand with plastic shovels into a
bright red bucket. Then he upends the bucket on the surface and lifts
it. And, to the delight of the little architect, a castle tower is
created.

All afternoon he will work. Spooning out the moat. Packing the walls.
Bottle tops will be sentries. Popsicle sticks will be bridges. A
sandcastle will be built.

Big city. Busy streets. Rumbling traffic. A man is in his office.

At his desk he shuffles papers into stacks and delegates assignments.
He cradles the phone on his shoulder and punches the keyboard with
his fingers. Numbers are juggled and contracts are signed and much to
the delight of the man, a profit is made.
All his life he will work. Formulating the plans. Forecasting the
future. Annuities will be sentries. Capital gains will be bridges. An
empire will be built.

Two builders of two castles. They have much in common. They shape
granules into grandeurs. They see nothing and make something. They
are diligent and determined. And for both the tide will rise and the
end will come.

Yet, that is where the similarities cease. For the boy sees the end
while the man ignores it.

So, one is prepared and one isn't. One is peaceful while the other
panics.

As the waves near, the wise child jumps to his feet and begins to
clap. There is no sorrow. No fear. No regret. He knew this would
happen. He is not surprised. And when the great breaker crashes into
his castle and his masterpiece is sucked into the sea, he smiles. Hesmiles, picks up his tools, takes his Father's hand, and goes home