What is it to be thankful? A question for the gods, it seems. I heard an exposition on this very subject last night, by a most worthy expositioner...I am yet unsatisfied. It seems that thankfulness, true and real, is directly tied to the seeking of the Kingdom..the very kingdom that I really am so very interested in seeking. Rumor declares is to be quite literally bulging with the meat of glory, of holiness, of perfection and sacrifice and light. Drips with the juice of it, so I hear. I suppose we'll see... Oh, and it has something to do with children. Of that, I am not in the least surprised, children have always to me been obviously strange. The only thing that makes their strangeness bearable is the oddest sense that at one time, perhaps in the past, perhaps in the future....it wasn't.
I am quite sure of at least one thing this morning... honest to God true thankfulness, (you know, like the ever-unpopular absolutely true..) has little or nothing to do with our funny idea of an uncomfortable moment of bowing ones head and flinging a token, conjured gratification in the direction of the nearest mental association resembling a deity. Nope, not it. When does one ever see a child partaking in this farce? Except of course when molded to it by a "grownup" who has sold out to the habit himself...
I think it is an escape from the hard work of faith. Of flinging your whole hundred and twenty seven pounds off the ledge and down through the stinging, cold air hoping against hope to be caught by the hand of God. Can he do it? Is he strong enough? Does he even see me jumping? Will I weigh him down? What if I am wrong, and he's not even there.
Think though, of that cold fresh air. Think of the view. The feel of your hair flying above you and the blood rushing to your face and fingertips... your nose going cold and a cloud wetting your skin... the sun making you blink and the resistance on your hands and feet... why do you think we like to stick our hands out the car window? We are remembering what it was to be strange, and young, and thankful.
All of creation screams day after day to me that He is deserving of my trust, and by obvious extension my deep, believing, moment by moment, second by instant thanks. The immediate and constant awareness of both the sun making me blink as I fall and the unquestionable surety of my safeness. To believe in Him is to be thankful, no?
