Hopper
I once met a man who hopped everywhere he went. He had two legs, but relied on one. In fact, he had given each leg a name: one called “grace,” the other, “strength.”
He had hopped for years. It was amazing. He could keep up with most people who used two legs. He was easy to find in a big group of people, because the hopping motion caused his head to pop above the crowd like a human whack-a-mole figure.
So strongly did he believe in his hopping leg, he would rather fall than use the other. No problem: he would tuck and roll and bounce back into action. Of course, over the years one leg grew ever stronger. His thigh and hamstring developed to amazing proportions—45 inches or more in circumference. His calf was so well defined you could see every fiber of the muscle. He would’ve saved a bundle on shoes, except they’re sold in matching pairs, but for him, only one shoe ever wore out.
Even at rest, when he was sitting down, his preference for one leg stood out. He always leaned one direction as he sat. You always knew which direction he would lean.
He loved the Lord and did his best to hop in the ways of God. It’s funny, though: one day I borrowed his Bible because I needed to read a bit in Ephesians. It was the strangest thing, though (and who can say if it was related to the hopping), when I got to chapter 2, verses 8, 9, and 10 were completely missing from his Bible. When I asked him why they were missing, he told me, “It’s got to be a mistake. There’s no way those ideas could walk side-by-side.”
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