All in a Day's Work

 What gain have the workers from their toil? I have seen the business that God has given to everyone to be busy with. He has made everything suitable for its time; moreover, he has put a sense of past and future into their minds, yet they cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end. I know that there is nothing better for them than to be happy and enjoy themselves as long as they live; moreover, it is God’s gift that all should eat and drink and take pleasure in all their toil.  – Ecclesiastes 3:1-14

If there is a mean old nasty brute named Satan, I’m pretty sure such an individual would find that, rather than encouraging us to do evil, it would be far more efficient and successful to merely convince us to do nothing. Entropy is easy to slide into and hard to overcome. If we believe the insidious lie “I am powerless,” great potential goes unrealized, and the world persists in not being as blessed a place as it might be.

But I think an even smoother Evil One would find a way to take all our joy out of work by making it obligatory. Just think if we turned all of the good we ever did into a price we have to pay to earn our way into paradise, soon, rather than the Kingdom, we’d be building resentments toward our God and the people God forces us to reach out and help.

But I think the smoothest One Who Opposes of all would jump on the cheap-grace/sloppy-agape bandwagon and try to lead us to believe that social and economic justice efforts were unnecessary, even undesirable traits of an immature faith. “We’ve received this gift through pure grace,” the thinking goes. “To fight for the cause of the destitute orphan and the hopeless widow is somehow less than faithful.”

The problem in all of this is simple: We mess up when we place God off somewhere away from us, up on some cloud swatting at those persistent little cherubs buzzing around his head, peering down from afar to see if we pass the test and will be allowed into the celestial party.

Jesus told us so many times that the “Kingdom of God” was a party about to get started right nearby, among us. He was all about doing the right thing because we like it, accepting and forgiving others because we love them, and seeing God’s work in every scrap of society and creation. Why else would Jesus, when asked about paradise, tell stories about sheep and wheat and housewives and flowers?

“Wherever two or more are gather in my name…” is a promise of presence among us. What if, instead of seeing our day’s work as buying a ticket to visit some far off deity once we’ve bit the big one, we recognized God moving through our hands and tongues. What if we saw ourselves as extensions of a very present God, reaching out to other extensions of that same God? What if God lives and loves in the open space between and within us?

In the story of the rich young man, this eager kid has implicitly followed all the ten commandments all his life, but is dying to find what else he must do to buy himself eternal life. Jesus recognizes the flawed thinking: that God’s love must be earned, achieved and owned through our own power and skill. He therefore tells the young man to remove the one obstacle between him and fully recognizing that God is already swimming all around him. “Your wealth seems to be blocking your view. Get rid of it and come with me.”

And the man turns and leaves, unwilling to surrender who he has become to become who he most wants to be. I see no evidence that Jesus told every rich man to give it all away. He is not fighting wealth, but a spiritual myopia that makes us blind to God and godliness all around us.

God can be in every breakroom conversation. Angels can sing through every chance meeting and simple gesture. If you want holy bliss, it is all in a day’s work.

It's Academic -- And a Matter of Life and Death

It happens over and over again.

Fairly often I cross paths with some shell-shocked Christian spouse (almost always a wife) who is running for her life without leaving her house. She’s continually torn to shreds emotionally, sleeps with her eyes open if at all, can’t bear the sound of the car in the driveway, and now the beatings have begun. She is bruised strategically in places that won’t show. She is wracked with shame, pain, fear and confusion…and she can’t leave because Jesus, the Bible and her pastor tell her God will be angry with her and hold it against her if she abandons her marriage.

Mark 10 is almost always quoted…Matthew and Luke as well.  And misguided fools convolute Paul’s concept of being a prisoner for the Gospel into the Gospel is a prison.

It is at times like these that I thank God for my academic training.  Dr. Hermann Gunkel and Sitz im Leben save lives. Dr. Gunkel, the son of a Lutheran pastor, really got the ball rolling with some of his colleagues when he insisted on digging for history in and around Biblical texts, and developed the concept of form criticism as well. He was instrumental in our looking at where a text “sits in life.” What were the day-to-day realities of the writer and speaker? What social, political and theological realities of the day are shaping and spurring the incidents and actions described and how they are described? How do they compare to our social, political and theological realities?

It is all marvelously academic, but the practical application of his work is such that I can confidently, faithfully tell abused and abuser alike that Jesus railed against divorce to all these heartless men questioning him because in those days women had no rights at all, and their husbands were their only protection from poverty, depravity and an ugly death. Jesus, in so firm an answer, was doing his best to intervene to save women from abuse! That being the case, why would Jesus suddenly support injustice and fight against peace 2000 years later? Whatever happened to “the same yesterday, today and forever?!?”

 Ah, the same yesterday, today and forever, to some means attempting to lock us into primitive societal standards of thousands of years ago, as if those standards are somehow Godly because they happened to be prevalent in the time of Christ. Some of those standards killed Christ and caused much of the great suffering he had worked to alleviate. It is perverse to suggest preserving those standards somehow serves him.

Trust me. I don’t go all academic on people in crisis. I go all academic in my own studies that I might be prepared to do Jesus’ bidding in the face of the same sort of stupid, persistent crap that passed for authoritative teaching in his day. Jesus is about human evolution, not man-made institutions. All the evidence of this fact is laid out for us right there in the big book, for those who have eyes to see and minds to think.

And for those who insist on a supposed “literal” interpretation of scripture that flies in the face of compassion and justice in a world so far advanced from that of Jesus’ day: In striving to be fools for Christ, there is always the danger of falling a bit short and succeeding only in being fools.

Bird of Pray

‘Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them…

… ‘And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward…

                                                            -- Jesus on prayer, Matthew 6

In my private prayers these days, often as not, there are no words involved, but an awareness of vibration in me and in the room, on the plain, under the stars…wherever it is I find myself opening to the One. It is good.

In my private prayers of other days, and quite possibly those of days to come, it was more of a conversation with God. I’d listen. I’d speak my mind. I’d listen again. It is good.

This Sunday I am preaching on prayer. This is a unique challenge in a congregation as varied as mine. There will be some listening who barely pray at all, and others who have full, rich prayer lives beyond anything I can imagine. Some no doubt prattle to God like they’re sitting on Santa’s knee, some confide over coffee at the kitchen table, others will be mindful of chakras and life energy. And there will be many others at myriad points on that circle. It is good.

I will try to impress upon all gathered that effective prayer changes things. Of course, it changes us, and how we relate in God to the world around us. It also changes that world.

Jesus warns us not to turn prayer into a public spectacle in which we crave outward approval more than inner communication with God. At the same time, as a pastor, I am often called to public prayer. How do I reconcile these potentially divergent realities?

Poet Andrea Gibson, in her piece Say Yes, sites a phenomenon: When there are two fine violins in a room, and one is strummed or bowed, the second will hum in sympathetic vibration.

Yesterday I prayed at the hospital bed of a dear friend who has suffered a stroke. Her daughter, husband, a close friend and I gathered around her. She was worn out from a day of re-learning how to talk and use her right arm and leg. She is all there, but is locked in a great struggle to find words and shape them. We all closed our eyes and I simply acknowledged God and shared love there among us. I prayed for courage, strength and continued progress. I prayed in gratitude for the miracle of medical science.  Then, after a moment's silence, I started up the Lord’s Prayer, which she has known since childhood. I opened my eyes to watch her and saw that the other three did the same. Only my slowly recovering friend kept her eyes firmly shut, and sure enough, her lips were moving along with us.

Now, for all I know, she may have been saying “Our flounder who’s sparks with Kevin,” but the cadence was there, the vibration was sympathetic in all of us. The words themselves ceased to matter. We all felt the presence and the lift, and it was good.

That is what I like public prayer to be: intimate for five or 500.  I like it to resonate not with my words, but with Presence and Love and any other name we have for God.

For a bird to fly, the air above its wing must move on more quickly than the air beneath. In doing so, the air thins out so there is less of it. For prayer to work, there must be more raising us up than there is holding us down.

When I tell you now that I want to be a bird of pray, this is what I mean.

Go Away, Little God

Isaiah 6:1-8 In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord sitting on a throne, high and lofty; and the hem of his robe filled the temple. Seraphs were in attendance above him; each had six wings: with two they covered their faces, and with two they covered their feet, and with two they flew.
And one called to another and said: "Holy, holy, holy is the LORD of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory."
The pivots on the thresholds shook at the voices of those who called, and the house filled with smoke.
And I said: "Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts!"
Then one of the seraphs flew to me, holding a live coal that had been taken from the altar with a pair of tongs. The seraph touched my mouth with it and said: "Now that this has touched your lips, your guilt has departed and your sin is blotted out."
Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?" And I said, "Here am I; send me!"


Luke 5:1-11 Once while Jesus was standing beside the lake of Gennesaret, and the crowd was pressing in on him to hear the word of God, he saw two boats there at the shore of the lake; the fishermen had gone out of them and were washing their nets.
He got into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, and asked him to put out a little way from the shore. Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat.
When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, "Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch."
Simon answered, "Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets."
When they had done this, they caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to break.
So they signaled their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both boats, so that they began to sink.
But when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus' knees, saying, "Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!"
For he and all who were with him were amazed at the catch of fish that they had taken; and so also were James and John, sons of Zebedee, who were partners with Simon. Then Jesus said to Simon, "Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people."
When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.


In the year that Judah's earthly king dies, Isaiah is called from his ordinary life to that of a prophet, and the semi-hallucinatory experience is fraught with bold, subversive sentiment:
1.The immortal Lord is seen on a kingly throne at a time when the Judean monarchy has once again shown its frail, mortal nature.


2.Solomon's temple, in all its massive glory, can barely fit the hem of God's robe. Even this giant religious wonder of the world will not contain God.


3.God's attending angels take a hot coal from the altar and fly past high priest, attending clergy and ranking officials to recruit some punk kid as prophet.

We religious folks often fall into the mindset that our churches are something like God-dispensers. The intended effect of all this glorious architecture at such massive scale is to somehow communicate loft of concept and enormity of God. But instead, we often see it as a pinpoint location for holiness: a holy post-and-tether to keep God properly in the yard, and not digging in the neighbor's garden or wandering off into town.

Isaiah's message is not simply that the Temple is too small to hold God, but that it is also too small to hold God's will and wisdom. Those impossible seraphs flit past all those priests and politicians for a reason: God will do what God will do, and choose whom God will choose. So not only might it be better to worship under the stars of the night sky, at some precipice of the Grand Canyon, or at land's end facing out into the ocean if we want to experience the enormity of God. We also might better fall to our knees at the maternity ward or morgue with our prayers of intercession. We might better lift our voices in hymns of praise at the soup kitchen or on the shop floor. We might better offer our sacrifices to strangers on cold sidewalks and in hushed late-night conversations, staring at the bedroom ceiling with those most intimate.

So I say “Go away, little God.” I yearn beyond a God that demands only a 7th of my mornings. I hear beyond the voices of Reverend and Doctor. I see the horizon beyond the steeple, and the possibilities beyond even our most rarefied, incense-saturated air. A cathedral god seems too fixed and petty for me. I like a good show, but I prefer a good impulse. I enjoy ancient ritual, but thrive on a profoundly present Is.

Doesn't it all come down to what we learned in Mrs. Lewis' 2nd grade Sunday School class? God is everywhere – truly a revolutionary concept! God is not merely huge. God is ever-present and implicit. God is right at the tip of our tongues and at the core of our better natures; in both our grandest gesture and our smallest kindness. We are not simply of use to God, we can be most-favored conduits of holiness.

Jesus proves the point as he recruits his disciples. His prophetic ministry visited temple and synagogue, yes, but was most definitely of the streets. His was a holiness that played across children's faces and swam in widow's tears. Shouts of acclamation and songs of praise sprang best from leprous lips and hungry mouths.

The typical pictures of Jesus with his Pepsodent smile, anglo-saxon nose, and Tide-sanitized, blindingly white robes does us a grave disservice. Ours is a messiah who was no doubt caked in the dust of the road and the filth of his followers. Ours is a face-to-face Christ. Ours is a face-to-face faith.

And isn't that the core of the prophetic message? The Holy One is not limited to large buildings and the big picture, but is liquid and rampant, ready, willing and able to flow through all we say and do with each other, if only we would allow the flood gates to open and the blessings to pour out. If only we had the gall and the guts amid so much glory and grandeur to simply say: “here am I, send me!”

Are You a Faith Wallflower?

The readings and, essentially, my sermon for this Sunday...




Psalm 71:1-6:

1 In you, O LORD, I take refuge; let me never be put to shame.
2 In your righteousness deliver me and rescue me; incline your ear to me and save me.
3 Be to me a rock of refuge, a strong fortress, to save me, for you are my rock and my fortress.
4 Rescue me, O my God, from the hand of the wicked, from the grasp of the unjust and cruel.
5 For you, O Lord, are my hope, my trust, O LORD, from my youth.
6 Upon you I have leaned from my birth; it was you who took me from my mother's womb. My praise is continually of you.



Jeremiah 1:1-10:

1 The words of Jeremiah son of Hilkiah, of the priests who were in Anathoth in the land of Benjamin,
2 to whom the word of the LORD came in the days of King Josiah son of Amon of Judah, in the thirteenth year of his reign.
3 It came also in the days of King Jehoiakim son of Josiah of Judah, and until the end of the eleventh year of King Zedekiah son of Josiah of Judah, until the captivity of Jerusalem in the fifth month.
4 Now the word of the LORD came to me saying,
5 "Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations."
6 Then I said, "Ah, Lord GOD! Truly I do not know how to speak, for I am only a boy."
7 But the LORD said to me, "Do not say, 'I am only a boy'; for you shall go to all to whom I send you, and you shall speak whatever I command you.
8 Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you to deliver you, says the LORD."
9 Then the LORD put out his hand and touched my mouth; and the LORD said to me, "Now I have put my words in your mouth.
10 See, today I appoint you over nations and over kingdoms, to pluck up and to pull down, to destroy and to overthrow, to build and to plant."


It was in the early days of my marriage, and the memory is foggy and partially obscured. Teresa and I were auxillary, even tangental guests at some rather staid gathering. As I recall, the whole experience was something of a non-sequiter, as the event was rather stuffed-shirt, but the venue was anything but.

We were in our Sunday best in the mid-afternoon at some sort of warehouse/nightclub/party house in downtown Columbia, South Carolina. There were about twenty of us, as I recall, and my wife and I – in our mid-20s, God bless us – were the youngest adults in the room by a good decade or six. I remember wide-plank flooring, industrial skylights mixed oddly with fine linen tablecloths and fluted glasses.

There was a DJ at this event, and he was doing his best to lift the mood all by himself. The dance floor was a wasteland. I remember our nameless hostess bemoaning that fact under her breath to us as she made her obligatory rounds of a disappointingly subdued party.

Then the DJ, in some pathetic final act of quiet desperation, threw on a tune by the Grateful Dead. It might have been one of their rollicking, 48-hour live versions of the Buddy Holly classic “Not Fade Away.” Teresa and I took matters into our own feet. We got up, moved out onto the empty floor, and we danced. But we didn't just dance, we DEAD DANCED!

Deadheads have their own movement vocabulary. They neither get down nor tighten up. They whirl and twirl and twist and hop and tip, limbs akimbo. That's what we did in that cold, dank room. The DJ was so delighted that he followed up with four or five more Dead tunes, and we happily obliged by staying out there...WAY out there... on the dance floor.

That was all. There was a temporary stir. The party eventually evaporated. We thanked our hosts and drove home. I remember Teresa later telling me that the hostest had said to her: “all the other guests were asking me 'who's that guy out on the dance floor?'” My wife, being the sensitive type, kindly left out the second half of her statement, which was probably something like: “and does he need medical attention?”

I am not a dancer. I do not draw attention to my body and its rather awkward movements. But I am willing to do even the occasional insane thing to see a dear friend smile.

This is why the call of Jeremiah really resonates with me. Jeremiah is just this guy, you know. He's a preacher's kid just minding his own business, quietly growing up and getting on with life when God taps him for Holy Propheteering. Jeremiah looks down at his feet and says to God, essentially, “Sorry, I'm just a kid and I can't dance.”

And God answers him, essentially, “I'm the one who gave you feet. Now go out there and make me smile.”

You may have gotten an inkling by now that I am not your typical evangelist. I am a deep believer in God and in the path that Jesus has enlightened. But in my faith, I like to whirl and twirl and twist and hop and tip, limbs akimbo, when so many around me insist on moving in lock step with the line dance du jour... or worse still, frown on anyone even rising at all from their assigned seats at the table.

I need to tell you that I am a very faithful man who loves his call and his work. When I don't speak up or fail to observe proper decorum, it is not that I am “ashamed of the Gospel,” (Romans 1:16). It is that I am ashamed of what some of my fellow Christians sometimes say and and do and insist upon, or FAIL to say and do and insist upon in His name. If I'm not dancing, it is because I am temporarily ashamed of THE BODY. Know what I'm saying? But I get over it.

Here's the thing: I love God. And God knows if the tune is called, I'll be out there doing something different – our thing on the feet he gave me – just to see that smile and share it with any of the other guests who might find God in it. I've gotten more than my share of offended glares, judgemental stares and all. I've lost friends and fellow Christians over some of our steps. But I know that God is with me, too. And I've got to think there are other wallflowers out there just waiting for someone to start a dance that will resonate with them.

When was the last time you danced out loud a truth God has given you and, apparently, nobody else in the room? Tell us about it!
 
Do you continue to make your way out to the dance floor when your faith calls the tune, even if others discourage you and cast judgement? Please share!
 
What does it take for you to get up and dance to the tune God is spinning for you?

Think About These Things - An Advent Sermon on Peace

Finally, Beloved: Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.  -- Philippians 4:8

This is a portion of what I preached yesterday, so I'm throwing it out there for the rest of you. (You can soon hear the full sermon here: http://www.wbccucc.blogspot.com/)

This is the Week of Peace in our preparations for Christmas, and I must admit that I approach it saddened and disappointed. I'm having a really tough time with our president's decision to commit 30-40,000 more troops to Afghanistan -- a country with a hopelessly corrupt, unpopular government, and complicated tribal splits and alliances. I recognize the danger of a particular breed of radical extremist Islam spreading to Pakistan -- a country in possession of nuclear weapons -- but my heart is heavy as I think of all those young men and women on their way to mayhem, blood and destruction.

Paul, in a similar time of military occupation, unrest and chaos, had simple advice for his fledgling faith community in Philippi: gravitate toward the good and just. Think about these things. This was the scheduled reading for next Sunday, but it also came to mind for me on the morning after President Obama's speech, when I tuned into an NPR call-in program to hear Robert Segal express slight chagrin that the first "expert" to phone in about the situation in Afghanistan and Pakistan was not a general, diplomat or foreign service worker, but none other than Deepak Chopra. Chopra cut him short and stated (and I am paraphrasing here):

"It makes perfect sense that I am talking to you. Consider India, and the state it was in several decades ago. We were not far different than Afghanistan and Pakistan, with warring factions and extreme tribal conflicts, but money was poured into education, and look where we are today: a stable, strong world leader... a successful nation. The same needs to happen in Pakistan and Afghanistan. Invest in educating the population, give them hope and the tools to better their minds and their lives and nihilistic extremism will evaporate."

It reminds me of one recent military effort in Iraq, where soldiers solicited American high schools to donate used soccer balls to fight the insurgency. My alma mater, Bloomfield High School, was one that sent soccer balls to Iraq, to be handed out by American forces to kids who desperately needed to do what kids everywhere most need to do: play together.

Playground diplomacy focuses on our humanity, on so much about us that is true, honorable, just, pure and pleasing. Let's think about these things.

Consider these two men, Edward Said and Daniel Borenboim. Said was a Columbia University English professor. Borenboim is a world-renowned conductor. The two met a decade ago and found that their seemingly conflicting cultures (Arab and Israeli) found common ground when discussing the youth trapped and wasted by the endless Palestinian-Israeli conflict. They germinated an idea: an orchestral camp featuring the finest professional musicians teaching Arab and Israeli youth, who would then perform together as the West-Eastern Divan Orchestra. The program grew, and a few years back, when they finally scheduled a performance in Ramallah, Palestine despite the deep safety and security concerns, the appearance of so many Arab and Israeli youth appearing on stage to make beautiful music together resulted in a ten minute standing ovation before the first note was even played! One small increment. True, honorable, just, pure, pleasing, commendable and excellent.

Or how about this man: Professor Joshua Silver, a physicist who had been working with spectroscopic analysis of highly charged ions at Oxford University. Professor Silver invented a way to manipulate the curvature of lenses as part of his work. Then he got to thinking: 60% of the population in the developed world require corrective lenses to see clearly. It would stand to reason that about the same ratio would exist in the developing world. There is an optometrist for every 10,000 people in London, but that ratio is an impossible 1 for every 8,000,000 in sub-Saharan Africa -- meaning that daily living, education, socialization and development are terribly limited in such areas by a seemingly intractable vision problem (figurative and literal).So Professor Silver develops a new set of Adaptive Spectacles. An individual pumps clear silicon oil into a set of lenses, curving them until refraction matches their individual corrective need. Voila! Vision corrected without the need to fly a cadre of optometrists into the African bush. 50,000 pairs of these inexpensive glasses have been fitted thus far.

Now people in the developing world have access to better vision, and a better future. One small increment. True, honorable, just, pure, pleasing, commendable, excellent and worthy of praise.

Peace doesn't come at the end of a gun or adjacent to an Improvised Explosive Device. It comes after the dust settles and some soldier tosses a kid a Hershey Bar and a soccer ball. It comes when mortal enemies turn their focus to making immortal music. It comes when a tribal elder can look clearly into the eyes of rival chieftains and beloved grandchildren, thanks to some obscure scientist two continents away. Think about these things.

Consider African merry-go-rounds for children that double as pumps to draw water from deep wells. Think about cardboard solar ovens that allow Sudanese women to remain in the safety of their encampments rather than having to seek firewood to cook family meals. Two more small increments.

We cease to behave humanly when we engage in combat. War is always the result of profound error, and it betrays the limits of our courage and creativity as a species. War is a bulldozed path toward an arbitrary goal. Peace is a meandering walk, winding its way around an issue to find root conflicts to resolve, common strengths to build on, possiblities to explore. War insists on MIGHT while peace plays with might.

At some point in every war, the leaders from each side come together and cobble some manner of peace over tea and biscuits. The worst offenders are isolated and made to answer for their crimes. Amends are made to those damaged "collaterally." Alliances are celebrated. Cities and civilizations are rebuilt, and fields are replanted. Leaders praise their dead and promise that this is the last time, lest their precious spilled blood be defiled.

Could it be that we are inviting the wrong people to lead us to the table? Or maybe it is a simple scheduling error:  isolating offenders, making amends, celebrating alliances and rebuilding civilizations at the end of the process when these best human tendencies should be scheduled for the very start. Shouldn't we all think about these things?

So That's the Thanks I Give

I live in a world of self-entitlement. I expect to receive anything I want at the flick of a switch, the swipe of a card. I like to eat bananas from Honduras, ride a bicycle from Japan, drink beer from Canada and fish with little fake minnows from Ireland. Nuclear fission and Niagara Falls light my reading lamp. My automobile engine runs on the blood of soldiers and harbor seals.

There's a whole lot of faceless people and far-flung materials supporting my lifestyle. There's no such thing as a self-made man.

And so it is that I come to you in this week which contains the day on which we are all supposed to stop, take stock and give thanks. I've decided to do so all this week, in hopes that, after seven straight days of extending the proper attitude of gratitude, perhaps it will become a daily habit I can carry throughout the coming year.

I have much to be grateful for:

1. God - slippery, elusive, wonderous mysterious joy that She is.
2. wife and kids - I am stunned at how much I haven't screwed them up. They're the best part of my really wonderful life.
3. family/friends/faith community - I am surrounded by an eclectic mix of characters who routinely amaze me with their grace, imagination and love.
4. freedom - I'm fortunate to live in a society of laws and latitude. I've grown up safe, been HANDED a great education, have found encouragement to speak up at almost every turn, and get to routinely stir the pot.
5. music - Oh, sweet nectar for the ears. And to not only have the privilege of listening, but to also be able to CREATE music of my own, by myself or with talented friends and family.
6. food - I really enjoy it.
7. green grass, blue sky, yellow sun - Seriously, what a breath-taking combination.
8. puppy jumps and arching-cat-shin-rubs - I'm usually the first human to come home in the evening, and I'm always greeted with love and enthusiasm.
9. a really great fort - Sure, I never had to hold a mortgage on the ones I built 40 years ago out of couch cushions, but the house Teresa and I have built feels every bit as cool.
10. my body - It is beginning to creak, bald and settle, but I can still do most of what I was doing 20 years ago.
11. my mind - Good things come in small packages, I guess.
12. good books - I just finished Steinbeck's "The Winter of Our Discontent." How cool is it that we can turn words into worlds?

How about you? What are you thankful for right now? Please, make a list to share with us...