This story – like most, I assume – begins with a question. We’ll get to that question in a minute, but first, let me tell you how we got to the question this tale will address.
Late last spring, the family and I went camping. I would say I took them camping, but really, they took me. For me, camping is fun, but it’s a lot of work. It’s not the work I’m used to, though. That makes it okay.
We loaded up the car and traveled to Prizer Point. It’s on Lake Barclay near "Land Between the Lakes" – a national recreation area.
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Outside of having to drive to Paducah to get the alcohol we should’ve picked up on the way, it was a pretty cool trip. We had Dad’s minivan with its GPS maps, satellite radio and kid-quieting video, so it was a pretty short drive at 2 ½ hours.
We arrived, checked in, and picked out a camping spot. After a short argument/discussion with my better half on where to pitch the tent, we compromised and put it up where I thought it should go. This "win" would never happen at home, which makes camping even more pleasant.
After we set up camp, Mrs. Hinky Dink took the kids to the pool, while I set forth to Paducah for the essentials. The round trip was probably close to three hours. Luckily, I had the GPS to always remind me how far I had yet to go.
After I returned, I gathered loose twigs and started the campfire with the plastic-wrapped firewood I purchased at the marina. Night and hunger tag-teamed us with a sense of urgency to cook dinner for the kids and for us. I can’t remember for sure, but I’m pretty sure we had hot dogs for the kids and bratwurst for us, complete with grilled green pepper and onion. The kids had children’s Benadryl for desert. Please don’t judge me on that, they would’ve never gone to sleep, otherwise.
The next day was a typical camping day filled with fishing, boating, swimming and a hike. The hike is where I suspect my 4-year old son picked up two ticks that completely freaked his shit. We pulled them off him using instructions from my oldest son’s Webelo manual and waited for the crying to subside. During his last whimpers he asked, "Why does God make ticks anyway?"
As you might expect, this isn’t exactly an easy question to answer, especially when you have to put the answer into a context a four-year old child can understand. Why indeed? The very idea of God making ticks to suck our blood makes me want to punch Jesus.
Anyway, I didn’t have an answer. Like most people without an answer, my four-year old son began to concoct his own theory. "I know!" he said. "There must be a good God and an evil God."
I challenge anyone to prove this theory untrue. It explains everything from Hitler to Clay Aiken.
I digress.
Why WOULD God make ticks? I ask this to any intelligent design advocate out there. What would make an intelligent designer think of a tick? I could see how a tick might evolve out of necessity, but I can’t imagine even the most intelligent of designers actually going out of his or her way to make one.
Before you get bent out of shape, I’m not questioning the existence of God. I acknowledge that dog breeders exist, even though I can’t figure out why they bred Chihuahuas. All I can figure is that there were evil dog breeders who thought a wheezy, goopy-eyed dog would be funny. So my son’s idea of an evil God does not seem that strange to me. The evil God would make ticks along with a host of other diseases, plagues and other parasites.
I would think, at some point, someone in the intelligent design field might have to account for multiple designers, a design team even -- one that included an evil God. Or, they could just acknowledge that evolution does a better job of explaining the existence of ticks than does the "God has his reason" angle.
I'll admit, telling a kid God did it is so much easier than explaining evolution. So for now, I think I’ll let my son contemplate the existence of an evil God. The neighbors seem to get a kick out of it, anyway.