I recently was hospitalized for two weeks, in no coincidence immediately after starting this blog. (It's a fact: when you stand up for God in spiritual warfare, you draw enemy fire. It hits and hurts. But obey God's will anyway.)
During that span, the Shenandoah Valley suffered an early killer frost. So instead of returning to my jungled deck upon which to recuperate, I came home to a withered disappointment. Many of my favorite plants were in pots, so I could take them inside to escape the cold weather -- even tomatoes.
But not all plants died, though. Two survived -- not because they were protected, just because they had frost-resistant cell structure.
God made them that way.
And once again I saw this otherwise disappointment as an affirmation of creationism over evolution. I mean, think of it: why would some plants "choose" to withstand frost and not others?
Yet that's what evolution claims animals do in adapting to their living conditions.
That's why I love to see the firefly, or lightning bug of my youth, appear on early summer evenings from my deck. Now here's an advanced insect that decided to advertise its presence with neon-like signs glowing in the night. In doing so, it accomplished something no other bug has been able to do over the eons of time. Surely other insects must be envious, yet despite their best efforts none have evolved sufficiently.
So each summer twilight, when fireflies begin to blink, I thank God for letting such a delightful creation knock learned evolution into an embarrassing cocked hat.
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