TGITh!

In the spirit of sharing with you what I find interesting, and because it’s my Friday and I’m lazy, I invite you to read these articles from the December 3, 2007 issue of TIME (how do they do that?; it’s only the 29th of November!). Anyway, the Takeuchi essay reminds me very much of Rachel’s style and wit, so I’m expecting to see an essay of hers published any day now. The last sentence of the Lee-St. John article leads me to ask, “Really?” I’m toying with the idea of exploring what Christmas means to me in future posts, so the big snooze is on. Have a nice weekend, and I’ll meet you back here next Monday (God willing, if you buy into preordination).

Sunday School for Atheists. by Jeninne Lee-St. John

It’s Inconvenient Being Green by Lisa Takeuchi Cullen

Happy Birthday, Rebecca!

It doesn’t seem possible that twenty-one years have already slipped by since Rebecca made her entrance into this world. That was in Flagstaff, Arizona, and Becca (as she prefers) has come full circle by returning to her hometown last summer. I’m unashamedly proud of the woman she has become, thoughtful, caring, and determined. It isn’t meant as an insult to say that she’s inherited more than a little of her old man’s fascination with the philosophical, a pursuit which I suspect she will take farther than I ever have. Rebecca is an excellent example of the hope inspired by a generation that hasn’t yet given up on its dreams in the way that I fear ours has. She magnificently survived an adolescence that I doubt I would have, and now she’s today’s brave new woman out to make the world a better place for all of us. I have told her on many occasions what I now make known to all: Rebecca, I’m blessed to be your father!

‘Tis the Season…

…for what? In my never-ending attempt to stimulate interactivity, I’m calling for a cyber show of hands (i.e. comments). Who really believes that it is better to give than to receive? The nice thing about responding by comment is that it provides the opportunity to elaborate or explain why you’re answering the way you are. A word of caution: be truthful! If Santa Claus can tell if you’re sleeping or if you’re awake, if you’ve been naughty or nice, he sure as heck can tell if you’re lying! Here’s hoping for a generous response from you, the readers, which may serve to shed a little light on what we really think about Christmas.

Genuine Gratitude Generates Generosity

I’ve noticed a growing number of books and articles being written about the benefits—both spiritually and physically—of being grateful. Just outside the limelight is similar research touting how beneficial a generous spirit can be to both the giver and the recipient. It is only natural, then, that a link between the two will begin to surface. People who count their blessings are less likely to count the gifts they bestow on others. In addition to being just downright lazy, I wasn’t interested in getting to the stores at 4 AM on “black Friday” following Thanksgiving because my focus had intentionally been upon making a grateful inventory of all the things I already have, not the least of which are my beautiful wife and daughters. As I assimilated just how blessed I am by family, my thoughts turned not to all the things I want but to ways that my gratitude might find expression in gifts that represent all that they mean to me. It is fair to say that the commercialization of Christmas has distracted our attention from the great gift given to us for which we should be eternally grateful. To use the well-worn phrase, if we can manage to put the Christ back in Christmas we may find ourselves spurred by gratitude to discover that it really is more blessed to give than it is to receive.

Thanks for the Life!

I know not where I’ve come from nor where I’m going to, but the sentient being I experience right now is nothing less than miraculous! I think, I breathe, I walk, and I talk. I am inimitable and irreplaceable. I am the salt of the earth. I am the light of the world. I am human, made a little lower than the angels and precious in my Creator’s sight. This is the Truth revealed in Christ and it speaks to and of me. Woe unto me if I have not heartfelt gratitude for what and who I am, because there is nothing more precious for which to be eternally grateful. Oh, and lest I sound like I am bragging, I speak with the voice of every child of God that inhabits this plane in time and space known as “life”. If we will but see with our eyes, hear with our ears, and know with our hearts and minds that every one of us is blessed with this gift and be thankful for it, the promised coming of the reign of God on Earth shall become reality. Thank you, God, for the life!

Thanks for the Freedom

Thanksgiving is regarded by many as a uniquely American holiday, and for good reason. Those of us who live in the United States have more for which to be grateful than much of the rest of the world, not the least of which is the freedom we enjoy so freely that we almost take it for granted. I am free to sit at my desk during my lunch hour and write pretty much whatever I feel like writing without fear of censorship. I have the freedom to work, the freedom to worship, the freedom to speak out, the freedom to vote, and the list goes on. I live in a nation where life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness were regarded by the founders as my inalienable rights, a fact that I might well lose sight of by succumbing to the temptation of believing that I am entitled to these things simply by virtue of being alive. There’s the old adage that you don’t appreciate what you have until you lose it, and that’s a good reason for me to make sure that I am grateful enough for my freedom now so that I won’t ever have to experience losing it. There are those who would, I am sure, like to take away the many freedoms I enjoy, but hopefully that’s not as likely to happen if I intentionally value and exercise them on a daily basis.

Thanks for the Crib and Ride

Is there anything more pathetic than an old man trying to be hip (or hep, as we concluded that’s what we were when I worked construction in Florida)? Being guilty as charged, I think not. But the gratitude I have for the classic condominium Mary and I call home, and for the virtually emission-free Prius that I drive is not diminished by poorly attempting to employ the jargon of the day. As I go through my daily routine preparing for work—fitness center, indoor plumbing to accommodate daily necessities and their cleanup, breakfast from a well-stocked pantry, clothing from a walk-in closet, etc—I try to be very intentional about taking none of these things for granted and reminding myself that I live in a kind of luxury that most peoples of the world cannot even dream of. I confess that when I’m caught in Las Vegas’ rolling parking lot designated US 95 that’s not when gratitude for a car to drive is most likely to pop up, but now that nearly twelve years of construction is finished and it’s a breeze to and from work I cannot afford to forget just how fortunate I am. I, like the majority of American citizens, have so much for which to be grateful this coming Thursday; so, it may not be a bad idea to adopt a thankful attitude a little ahead of time so that it’s in full gear by the time the day arrives.

~ A Baby's Hug ~

We were the only family with children in the restaurant. I sat Erik in a
high chair and noticed everyone was quietly sitting and talking. Suddenly, Erik squealed with glee and said, 'Hi.' He pounded his fat baby hands on the high chair tray. His eyes were crinkled in laughter and his mouth was baredin a toothless grin, as he wriggled and giggled with merriment.

I looked around and saw the source of his merriment. It was a man whose pants were baggy with a zipper at half-mast and his toes poked out ofwould-be shoes. His shirt was dirty and his hair was uncombed and unwashed. His whiskers were too short to be called a beard and his nose was so varicose it looked like a road map.

We were too far from him to smell, but I was sure he smelled. His hands waved and flapped on loose wrists. 'Hi there, baby; hi there, big boy. I see ya, buster,' the man said to Erik.

My husband and I exchanged looks, 'What do we do?'

Erik continued to laugh and answer, 'Hi.'

Everyone in the restaurant noticed and looked at us and then at the man. The old geezer was creating a nuisance with my beautiful baby. Our meal came and the man began shouting from across the room, 'Do ya patty cake? Do you know peek-a-boo? Hey, look, he knows peek- a-boo.'

Nobody thought the old man was cute. He was obviously drunk.

My husband and I were embarrassed. We ate in silence; all except for Erik, who was running through his repertoire for the admiring skid-row bum, who in turn, reciprocated with his cute comments.

We finally got through the meal and headed for the door. My husband went to pay the check and told me to meet him in the parking lot. The old man sat poised between me and the door. 'Lord, just let me out of here before he speaks to me or Erik,' I prayed. As I drew closer to the man, I turned my back trying to sidestep him and avoid any air he might be breathing. As I did, Erik leaned over my arm, reaching with both arms in a baby's 'pick-me-up' position. Before I could stop him, Erik had propelled himself from my arms to the man.

Suddenly a very old smelly man and a very young baby consummated their love and kinship. Erik in an act of total trust, love, and submission laid his tiny head upon the man's ragged shoulder The man's eyes closed, and I saw tears hover beneath his lashes. His aged hands full of grime, pain, and hard labor, cradled my baby's bottom and stroked his back. No two beings have ever loved so deeply for so short a time.

I stood awestruck. The old man rocked and cradled Erik in his arms and his eyes opened and set squarely on mine. He said in a firm commanding voice, 'You take care of this baby.'

Somehow I managed, 'I will,' from a throat that contained a stone.

He pried Erik from his chest, lovingly and longingly, as though he were in pain. I received my baby, and the man said, 'God bless you, ma'am, you've given me my Christmas gift.'

I said nothing more than a muttered thanks. With Erik in my arms, I ran for the car. My husband was wondering why I was crying and holding Erik so tightly, and why I was saying, 'My God, my God, forgive me.'

I had just witnessed Christ's love shown through the innocence of a tiny child who saw no sin, who made no judgment; a child who saw a soul, and a mother who saw a suit of clothes. I was a Christian who was blind, holding a child who was not. I felt it was God asking, 'Are you willing to share your son for a moment?' when He shared His for all eternity.

The ragged old man, unwittingly, had reminded me, 'To enter the Kingdom of God, we must become as little children.'

If this has blessed you, please bless others by sending it on. Sometimes, it takes a child to remind us of what is really important. We must always remember who we are, where we came from and, most importantly, how we feel about others. The clothes on your back or the car that you drive or the house that you live in does not define you at all; it is how you treat your fellow man that identifies who you are.

This one is a keeper.


'It is better to be liked for the true you, than to be loved for whom people
think you are......'

Heartfelt thanks to my loving sister for sharing this with me so that I may now share it with you.

Thanks for the Job

Our team is having its Thanksgiving potluck today. It reminds me how grateful I need to be for being among the employed. The American culture essentially requires employment, and it seems to be rather unforgiving of those who are not. Oh, I know, there’s the welfare state, etc, but I’ve not seen many of those living high on the hog. For the most part, either you’re employed or you’re not valued as a member of the society.

I’m not as sympathetic toward the unemployed as I probably should be, but I’ve never been out of work. Having never been “too good” or over-qualified for any job has resulted in an eclectic resume that definitely classifies me as a “jack of all trades but master of none.” But my gratitude is focused on there always being a paycheck for my various labors. I know that there are some who are genuinely unemployable, but those who just don’t like to work perhaps deserve their lack of income.

Thanks for the Friends

I have been blessed by many friendships, the majority having somehow been related to the church. Across the spectrum from young to old these friends have made my life more meaningful and gratifying. A handful, I suppose, have distinguished themselves as “best friends”, not the least of which is my soul mate, Mary. I find it interesting to consider what leads to friendship, or what ends up in terms of animosity and enmity. I would like to be like Will Rogers who never met a man he didn’t like, but it would be less than truthful to say so. My amateur analysis concludes that it is easiest to like those who like me, and Jesus said as much when he questioned the value of such relationships. The challenge of the Christ is to love our enemies, although their may be some consolation in that the admonition is not to befriend them. What is the correlation between love and friendship? In some instances it is obvious, but I find that most times it is love of self that generates the perception of being friends. Jesus made it a point to tell his followers that rather than consider them his subordinates he regarded them as friends. So, it seems to me that there must be some sort of correlation between true love and genuine friendship that I will do well to learn as much about as I possibly can.

Thanks for the Family

Every time I tie my shoelaces I employ skills that were lovingly and patiently taught me by my mother. I was blessed to have been born into a home that had both a mother and a father and that eventually added a sister to make it complete. Mary came from the same kind of home which multiplied the number of aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents included in the new branch created by our marriage. Having such family ties was just taken for granted when I was a child, but as I grew older (and perhaps more mature in the process) I began to understand that it is not always this way for everyone.

I contend that our world can become a better place when life is revered and held sacred. That’s a lesson of the home and family that is taught from birth (yes, I can accept that the learning begins even before birth) on, and that a newborn derives a significant sense of her or his self-worth from the family which ideally surrounds it. We don’t have to look too hard to find the results of being born into an environment that is void of a whole family, and to realize that the entire world suffers for it. I thank God for each and every member of my family, and for having my eyes opened to the truth that each and every one of us make up the whole family of God.

Thanks for the OJ?

My Thanksgiving shtick was apparently premature. The media circus across the street generated by OJ Simpson’s preliminary hearing nearly distracted me. But then, in what is a stretch even for me, I realized that I should be grateful to live in a country that grants us the freedom to display just how stupid we really are. Climate change? War? Genocide? Corrupt politicians? These all pale by comparison to our insatiable quest for celebrity. Thank God we don’t have a government that forces us to concentrate on the truly important issues in lieu of some criminal football hero. OJ may have gotten away with murder, but he might just get nailed for an inept casino heist of his memorabilia. Thank God I’m an American! I have the luxury of immersing myself in the mundane and idiotic without having to worry about Darfur, Iraq, Iran… Did someone say something about fiddling while Rome burned? Thank God for miraculous technologies which allow us to sit glued to our televisions and computers to watch the trials and tribulations of OJ, and for censorship of only those things that offend our imaginary sense of morality. By golly, I think I’ve done it! Thank you God, for OJ!

Thanks for the Children!

I can honestly say that I’ve never taken the gift of our two beautiful daughters for granted. First, as Rachel was born; and then Rebecca, I lifted my praise and thanks to God that both were born vibrant and healthy. I knew that it doesn’t always turn out that way, and it was a first moment of profound gratitude which has been magnified as they have matured into intelligent, beautiful women. No more than I can imagine what my life would have been like without Mary, neither can I fathom what happiness nor meaning there would have been without Rachel and Rebecca. I find it challenging to express my pride and joy in ways that are not trite and cliché, but I pray that One knows the tremendous gratitude I feel for the privilege of being their father.

I cannot help but think that a genuine spirit of thanksgiving must include one’s family. I agonize each day of work over the parents and children that apparently are little more than chattel in the scheme of things. It has been observed that our children are our most valuable resource, but they all too often are sublimated to material greed and selfishness. I would encourage us to include mothers, fathers and children among the things that we are truly grateful for, and in so doing this coming Thanksgiving might be transformed into the kind of celebration it is truly meant to be.

Thanks for the Delicious Lunch!

Ala Geritol advertisements of yore: my wife! I think I’ll keep her. Mary arises each morning earlier than she would have to in order to prepare my lunch. It’s always nutritious, delicious, and packed with loving care. I’m well aware that this goes against the grain of radical feminism, but Mary is the kind of person who does not let ideology dictate how and why she does things. Far less often than I should, I try to express my gratitude via e-mail or in person (anyone who knows Mary knows that an e-mail may hibernate in her box for weeks or months) so I’m taking this rather unconventional means to once again thank her for the wonderfully loving way she takes care of me.

We’re knocking on Thanksgiving’s door, by some accounts the most popular of American holidays. It really isn’t too early to start counting our many blessings, such gratitude being a marvelous antidote for always wanting more. I suspect that if we spent more time concentrating on what we’re thankful for there would be far less time to rail against all that’s wrong. From the moment I wake up in the morning until I slip into slumber at night, I am blessed beyond my ability to comprehend. My Thanksgiving resolution this year is to focus upon how I can share my bounty with those who have less, and just as importantly, with those who for some reason don’t appreciate what they already have. Who knows? America might just use its unique holiday to proclaim that God has richly blessed us instead of petitioning (remember Jim Morrison: you cannot petition the Lord with prayer!) for more. Did you hear that, W?