NOT MUCH TO BE THANKFUL ABOUT(?): These last 13 months have been, if not the most challenging period of all my circuits around the sun, they’re certainly in the team picture.  According to one fella that crossed my path this week, one of those encouraging types that never saw a silver lining that didn’t hold a dark cloud, this should make me less thankful for 2025. He may be on to something since last Sunday, chapter 107 of Psalms, the words & music of #27 in The Baptist Hymnal, “All Creatures of Our God & King”, & an afternoon with the granddaughters confronted me with being glad & being thankful. 

    My family, my tribe of 9 that occupies the pew in front of me & Miss Julie on Sunday mornings, my tribe that called or showed up at a hospital without request, to visit the matriarch in the middle of raising families & starting careers & in the middle of a Saturday of broken arms & ambulances. Family that showed up from out of town because in February, it was all hands on deck. And there are two little ones that decorated today’s tablecloth that call me Papa & a lifeguard/swim coach that pledged for better or worse & meant it. 

      Friends, just family with different last names, churched & unchurched, some vote red & some blue, but they always seem to show up or pray up or text at the right time with the right words. Like a friend’s early morning “Happy Thanksgiving”. We used to live within 90 feet of each other between 1st & 2nd base, now we’re half a world from each other, but me & him & a few others have never let distance, or faith, or politics, or time seize our friendship & in the middle of this opus, I received kind words from a former student thankful for me.

     And there’s a small gymnasium & its inhabitants & their words & actions. Actions & words like the best athlete in the school waving me over at lunch. I was expecting comments on the first days of basketball practice but got a non athletic question, a few good minutes of conversation & in her business like way, a “thanks” that spoke volumes. 

     Then Monday’s encounter with a 1st grader that wanted to discuss P.E. Through no fault of his, he’s occasionally hard to understand. I got only about 75% of what he said but I got 100% of his heart & hug. 

      And parents, checking in on my mom or dropping a note in my staff mailbox. Co-workers that have helped me navigate difficult days with encouragement in forms of tissues, sarcasm, a verbal kick in the seat of the pants & help in doing my job in the digital instead of analog. They’ve also aided the rediscovery of my humanity, my decentness, my courage, & my grit to wake up every day & make the devil scan Hell & say, “…well dang it boys, he’s up, we’re in for a scrap”, even in spite of my less than stellar reaction to a Tuesday night dead car battery that carried to Wednesday morning. 

      These people, all of ‘em, have given a self-inflicted refugee from the human arms race a home, a purpose to chase instead of chasing perfection on this trip from womb to tomb. They’ve improved me & my ability to handle the seasons, all of ‘em, of this life. They’ve given me reasons to show up for each day’s dirty little skirmish in this life’s dirty little war & risk being scarred for showing up & being willing to get up again tomorrow & wash, rinse, & repeat. Then again the next day. Then the next & then, there’s God. 

      God, whom I petition far more than I thank, whom I pester in the void & don’t seek in the full. Whom when I question why my writing side hustle sees little evidence of traffic, inexplicably opens The Netherlands on a single day & six Dutch sign up despite nary a mention of speed skating, tulips, windmills, or even Virgil Van Dijk.

      God, when I question where He is, He delivers from His crayon box to my porch & to the Gulf of Mexico, sunsets that say, “I’m right here”. Yep, that fella might be on to something, maybe I’ll have a more thankful look back on 2026…