Doggedly he turns his back on the circling horde bent on his destruction. He pulls from the inside of his ragged tunic a chunk of charcoal, and a roll of papyrus. He scratches earnestly:
I.
AM.
GRATEFUL.
For?
* More gloriously sunny days this summer than I can shake a stick at, whatever that means. I'll ask my Dad, next life.
* A pastor who realizes some of us might have given up on prayer. And he helps us understand...
* ...HIM. He wants to be friends. He wants to listen. He wants to talk.
* Six writer friends who pull me from despondency simply by sitting around being goofy and creative. And an ink-smudged salute to Annie, for being there, and being Annie.
* Us. The U.S. of A. We consider for our leader a strangely named black guy, an geezerly military jock, a screechy white woman and a Baptist rock & roll preacher. Are we cool or what?
* Coblentz chocolate covered pretzels. Makes 3pm almost fun.
* Lunar glory. It goes in circles reflecting light, and always manages to look amazing. And intriguing, like it's hiding something. Oh yeah, its back side.
* Gratitude. It turns your face to the sun.
His charcoal down to a pebble, he rolls the scroll and tucks it away. He turns to confront the horde, only to realize, the lot of them fled.
2 comments:
Mark,
I love being thankful with you. Every time I read your Jueves Cracias, I find myself thankful for the exact same things.
Gratitude...it rubs off on others.
Thanks for being grateful!
Since me being me is what you are grateful for, I can't take any credit. I didn't have a whole lot to do with it. :)
I am grateful for dreams. And then I am grateful for people who push me to take them out of foggy obscurity, bring them into the light, and give them surfaces and edges. That would be you guys.
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