I am thankful.
That I am reasonably healthy. That I can work for a living and have a job that allows me to provide what I have. That I can complain when I feel like things aren’t going my way although I know complaining makes me look petty and small.
I am thankful.
That my wife loves me in spite of my own stupidity, arrogance and pride. That my wife is pretty and smart, prettier and smarter than I deserve. That my wife challenges me to love her as deeply and strongly as she loves me.
I am thankful.
That I have family who put up with me enough to think I’m an okay guy. That my family cares for one another more than words can even begin to describe. That I have family whose laughter is as warm and genuine as the hugs we share.
I am thankful.
That I have more than enough to eat. That I have clothes on my back. That I have shoes on my feet. That I have a roof over my head. That I have a couple of automobiles to get around in. That I have more "things" than I really know what to do with.
I am thankful.
That I have a spiritual family of people who are like me, broken, damaged, imperfect but redeemed by the life and blood of Jesus Christ. That this body of believers reaches out to each other and beyond it’s own doors to the community where it resides and out into the world. That these people are examples of dignity and love in a world that increasingly believes what we cling to is outdated, old-fashioned, not nuanced enough and just plain stupid.
I am thankful.
That I live in the greatest country in the world. That braver men and women than I have fought and do fight for the freedoms we have, even for the freedom some may have to disparage and malign those who do serve in the military. That even in our country's tough times, our nation is still blessed beyond what we should expect.
I am thankful.
That God loves me when I am unlovable. That God loves me in spite of my failings. That His love sent His Son to be in my place.
I am thankful.
For Cherry Coke. For iced coffee. For Sweet Tarts. For shrimp chimichangas. For reading glasses. For our cat, Daisy. For long Sunday afternoon naps. For quiet Saturday mornings as the sun rises on our street. For good memories. For mistakes where I learned something. For all the little things that make me smile, laugh, question and consider who I am, where I am and what I am doing.
I am thankful.
For the life I have lived, am living and plan on living.
Happy Thanksgiving.
11.27.2008
11.25.2008
Things Change, Things End
Things change. Things end. It’s just part of life.
Here I am and a major thing is ending for me.
There will be some separation anxiety. This thing ending has been a part of me for ten, eleven, twelve or so years. It’s hard to track time as you get older.
Deep down, I knew this thing would end. I may not have really wanted to think about it in such terms but I knew there would come a day when it would be the end.
Monday, November 24, 2008 was a cold, harsh day here, weather-wise. It rained most of the day. The wind blew the rain sideways like you see the wind blowing sand in those movies set in some desert. That seemed appropriate for the end.
At the end of this Monday, I left work and stepped into my red Toyota pick-up, started her up, flipped on the lights, turned the radio down a bit, clicked on the wipers and made the trek home being careful on the rain-streaked streets not to drive any crazier than I should.
Once home, I pulled up to the mailbox and pulled out a few bills, a few notices and a magazine or two. I then eased into the comfy confines of the garage. Before climbing the stairs into the house, I pulled our garbage can out to the side of the house so that I might roll it out to the curb after rounding up the rest of the garbage. I then unloaded my laptop and my coat and the mail from the truck and started up the stairs. Before I did though, I stopped and gave a knuckle bump to my truck. She had gotten me home safely one more time, this time on wet streets through rush hour, arriving home just as the darkness of the night settled on our street.
My truck has been my old familiar companion for years. Monday, November 24, 2008 it began a vacation from me. You see, things end. And, things change.
Two days earlier, Jennifer and I bought an almost new Honda CRV. For now, I will get to drive the CRV. This means the deep red Toyota extended cab gets to rest from her 190,000+ miles for awhile.
This morning we drove to the auto dealership and took possession of our 2007 Honda CRV. I then drove this new-to-us vehicle to work. I drove around our campus to my usual slate of parking spaces, no doubt sitting up straighter than usual. As I neared my final turn, I couldn’t help but feel a wee bit nostalgic already for my old red Toyota pick-up but, deep down, I knew things had changed.
Things do change and things do end. It is just part of life after all.
Here I am and a major thing is ending for me.
There will be some separation anxiety. This thing ending has been a part of me for ten, eleven, twelve or so years. It’s hard to track time as you get older.
Deep down, I knew this thing would end. I may not have really wanted to think about it in such terms but I knew there would come a day when it would be the end.
Monday, November 24, 2008 was a cold, harsh day here, weather-wise. It rained most of the day. The wind blew the rain sideways like you see the wind blowing sand in those movies set in some desert. That seemed appropriate for the end.
At the end of this Monday, I left work and stepped into my red Toyota pick-up, started her up, flipped on the lights, turned the radio down a bit, clicked on the wipers and made the trek home being careful on the rain-streaked streets not to drive any crazier than I should.
Once home, I pulled up to the mailbox and pulled out a few bills, a few notices and a magazine or two. I then eased into the comfy confines of the garage. Before climbing the stairs into the house, I pulled our garbage can out to the side of the house so that I might roll it out to the curb after rounding up the rest of the garbage. I then unloaded my laptop and my coat and the mail from the truck and started up the stairs. Before I did though, I stopped and gave a knuckle bump to my truck. She had gotten me home safely one more time, this time on wet streets through rush hour, arriving home just as the darkness of the night settled on our street.
My truck has been my old familiar companion for years. Monday, November 24, 2008 it began a vacation from me. You see, things end. And, things change.
Two days earlier, Jennifer and I bought an almost new Honda CRV. For now, I will get to drive the CRV. This means the deep red Toyota extended cab gets to rest from her 190,000+ miles for awhile.
This morning we drove to the auto dealership and took possession of our 2007 Honda CRV. I then drove this new-to-us vehicle to work. I drove around our campus to my usual slate of parking spaces, no doubt sitting up straighter than usual. As I neared my final turn, I couldn’t help but feel a wee bit nostalgic already for my old red Toyota pick-up but, deep down, I knew things had changed.
Things do change and things do end. It is just part of life after all.
11.19.2008
Leaves, Colors, Rain, Fog, A Remarkable World
The leaves have been beautiful the last few weeks. Brilliant shades of orange, yellow, red and green all mixed together have been remarkable reminders of how God changes seasons where we live. Set that beautiful palette on rolling hills against the backdrop of a blue sky and you discover another meaning of beauty.
Recently, my job took me and a couple of co-workers to a remote place an hour away. The majority of the drive is remarkable, open skies, mountains, trees. When you get there, the base of the mountains are within sight, so close it seems you could stop the car and take a few steps over to it. On this particular day, the rain fell. It was hard to see the sky since it was shrouded in a fog that was as thick as soup in places. Through the raindrops you could see the mountains and the kaleidoscope of colors on the trees. While this trip is always enjoyable and at times breathtaking when the sun sits high in the sky, there was just something hypnotic about the wet leaves dangling from the trees, the heavy fog clinging to the mountains like a bashful child clings to his mother’s dress, and the chill of autumn nudging at my skin. It was beautiful in a way that the brightest, sunniest day could not even match.
While the leaves are beautiful for awhile, they soon become a nuisance for me. Every year, one fall day, a rain will come or strong winds will blow for hours. This day was the day that began the separation of the leaves from the trees in our yard. The yard where I struggle to grow grass will soon be overtaken with leaves of all shapes and sizes. The gutters which run the length of the front and back of the house fill with leaves in the blink of an eye. The shrubbery which lines our driveway catches stray leaves from the neighbor’s yard. Almost every inch of the yard will be covered by leaves.
So, over the next few weeks, I’ll drag out the rake and the leaf blower, crank up the iPod and spend hours moving piles of leaves from one place to another so the yard can be seen again. By then the pretty colors of the leaves will have turned to a earth-tone brown while I hope the grass will revive into a bright green in a few months. And maybe for a moment, the memory of the radiant color of the fall’s leaves will pass through my mind and remind me the annual leaf moving exercise is worth the beautiful colors, the sunny skies, the rainy skies and the clinging fog to live in the remarkable world I live in.
Recently, my job took me and a couple of co-workers to a remote place an hour away. The majority of the drive is remarkable, open skies, mountains, trees. When you get there, the base of the mountains are within sight, so close it seems you could stop the car and take a few steps over to it. On this particular day, the rain fell. It was hard to see the sky since it was shrouded in a fog that was as thick as soup in places. Through the raindrops you could see the mountains and the kaleidoscope of colors on the trees. While this trip is always enjoyable and at times breathtaking when the sun sits high in the sky, there was just something hypnotic about the wet leaves dangling from the trees, the heavy fog clinging to the mountains like a bashful child clings to his mother’s dress, and the chill of autumn nudging at my skin. It was beautiful in a way that the brightest, sunniest day could not even match.
While the leaves are beautiful for awhile, they soon become a nuisance for me. Every year, one fall day, a rain will come or strong winds will blow for hours. This day was the day that began the separation of the leaves from the trees in our yard. The yard where I struggle to grow grass will soon be overtaken with leaves of all shapes and sizes. The gutters which run the length of the front and back of the house fill with leaves in the blink of an eye. The shrubbery which lines our driveway catches stray leaves from the neighbor’s yard. Almost every inch of the yard will be covered by leaves.
So, over the next few weeks, I’ll drag out the rake and the leaf blower, crank up the iPod and spend hours moving piles of leaves from one place to another so the yard can be seen again. By then the pretty colors of the leaves will have turned to a earth-tone brown while I hope the grass will revive into a bright green in a few months. And maybe for a moment, the memory of the radiant color of the fall’s leaves will pass through my mind and remind me the annual leaf moving exercise is worth the beautiful colors, the sunny skies, the rainy skies and the clinging fog to live in the remarkable world I live in.
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