Chapter One

Life is the tale of two stories-one finite and frail, the other eternal and enduring. The tiny one-the story of us-is as brief as the blink of an eye. Yet somehow our infatuation with our own little story-and our determination to make it as big as we possibly can-blinds us to the massive God Story that surrounds us on every side.

It's a little like me being shocked a few weeks ago by the reaction of two of New York City's finest as they motioned me over to their squad cars in the middle of my mid-morning run. The first officer's opening line (the exact wording of which, I'm sad to say, cannot be repeated here) led to the inexcusable reply,

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

I quickly realized I had said the wrong thing, especially to a New York cop. In a heartbeat my hands were on the hood of his car and threats of arrest were flying all over the place. I was startled and unnerved, and though it was now too late, my mouth was shut. Unless asked, I wasn't saying another word, especially a sarcastic one.

To make matters worse, all I could produce in the way of identification was a hotel key card-one of those fancy new ones that looks cool but doesn't even contain the name and address of the hotel. The whole scene was going downhill fast ...

Things had started off innocently enough that morning as I headed out the door of our midtown-Manhattan hotel and began plodding down the sidewalk toward the East River about eight blocks away. But before I was two or three blocks away it started to rain. First it was just annoying-an int