In his book, "When God Whisper's Your Name," Max Lucado writes: "It's quiet. It's early. My coffee is hot. The sky is still black. The world is still asleep. The day is coming. In a few moments the day will arrive. It will roar down the track with the rising of the sun. The stillnesss of the dawn will be exchanged by the noise of the day. The calm of solitude will be replaced by the pounding pace of the human race. The refuge of the early morning will be invaded by decisions to be made and deadlines to be met."
I awakened this morning with the sense that it is well with my soul. I say that despite the fact that I haven't yet had my first cup of coffee. In deference to a prescription that identifes the need to eat nothing for 30 minutes after taking, the fine print also indicates the need to drink nothing but water for that same period of time.
Consequently, I'm sitting in front of my computer screen with ample time to reflect on yesterday. It was a really good day. We have a house full of company. Four are in town for deer hunting. In addition, the presence of Andrea and Kevin made for a table of eight for both lunch and dinner last night. No one was in a hurry, and there wasn't a must-watch football game on television. We simply spent the time talking and the conversation was laced with laughter.
One of my favorite past times is for a day to play out exactly as yesterday evolved. The General outdid herself in the kitchen, but she's been cooking all week to ensure that the weekend will be filled with culinary delights.
In addition, today at church, the community joins in for our Thanksgiving Celebration with a meal in the fellowship hall. It always takes place the Sunday before Thanksgiving. It is almost like getting a jump-start on Thanksgiving.
I am thankful for the gift of family. Ours is not a gathering of doctors, lawyers and Indian chiefs. Actually, that is the title of a song from 1945 recorded by Betty Hutton. The lyrics are thought provoking:
"There's a doctor living in your town.
There's a lawyer and an Indian too.
But neither doctor, lawyer or Indian chief
could love you any more than I do.
There's a barrel of fish in the ocean.
There's a lot of little birds in the blue.
But neither fish nor fowl says the wise old owl
Could love you more than I do...
Tell the doc to stick to his practice.
Tell the lawyer to settle his case.
Send the Indian Chief and his Tommy-hawk back to
little Rain-in-the-face.
Cause you know it couldn't be true
That anyone loves you more than I do."
Several years ago, I was taking with a relatively new friend. He was a young man undergoing cancer treatment. Because of the debilitating effects of the chemotherapy, he was no longer working. He asked a question that caught me off-guard.
He asked: "Isn't it true that most men limit their social life to work and their socialization usually revolves around what they do? I was puzzled by the question. Yet, if what he infers is true, we guys really do a disservice to ourselves, and everyone gets short changed in the process.
Who we are is so much more important that what we do. What we do will change with the passage of time, but who we are is the essence of our being.
A dinner table surrounded with folks who love and enjoy each other's company puts us on a level playing field. No one is more important than the other. We are all in the process of becoming, but only we can fit the roles we've been given.
All My Best!
Don
No comments:
Post a Comment