I read Margaret Sommerville's article "The flawed quest for perfection" in the Citizen today, the same day I spent my lunch hour outside at work reading "the Shack". This book is so freaking good (as I sat outside at lunch with the tears streaming down my imperfect face blowing my imperfect nose and my human crying condition and the balled up kleenexes). I am buying 5 more copies of it and will give/lend it out to you/my girls/whomever. It is fiction but it is so ummmmmbelievable. This book is so good because the whole point of it is to make us mere imperfect humans better understand the nature of suffering, sort of through God's point of view. I don't think we will ever completely understand the nature of suffering until we sit across the breakfast table with God, but this book makes it as close to a real imperfect human's ability to comprehend that I have read yet. And it does it in very simple language so any imperfect human being can understand it. You don't have to have a face lift, or a flat stomach, you can even be ugly. It doesn't matter. You will still understand it. And that is where Margaret is so right in her article, why can't we just leave the human condition alone? Why can't we just keep our wrinkles and our imperfections and ugly bodies, our inconvenient babies and our troublesome old people alone? This is where science has caused us difficulty in that it lets us think we can play God and not depend on God.