Thanks Intro

Here's a place where believing in God makes perfect sense. This month everyone will talk about being thankful and feeling gratitude for all kinds of things, many of which can't be credited to a person. The feel of crunchy leaves, the way sunshine feels on skin, or the fact that there're people in this world who love me. Without a god in my world picture, I have no one to thank. Who or what am I grateful to? The universe is one answer, but it feels like my grateful feelings fall off a cliff if the universe is uncaring. So if you'll venture into my tiny and possibly frightening logic with me, I think the idea of gratitude (that goes beyond gifts from people) is evidence that there's someone giving to us. It's telling us something we somehow know already about the giver. The response of thankfulness infers that the giver likes people to realize not only the gift, but the love that comes behind it. 

So here goes a month of thanks to the Guy upstairs, who I'm completely crazy about. Even on days when I'm not, because we all have feelings, but since he made them I figure he doesn't take offense. 

I feel like I'm on vacation when I go downtown. Probably because I've never worked downtown and I don't run into people I know as often as I do in the 'burbs. Lincoln may have 200,000 people living here, but it sure is a small town on a bad hair day. I will see at least three people I know and one of them will look AMAZING. (Diverting confession: As hard as I try, I sometimes listen to voices that say I should feel bad about myself if I look "bad." It makes me competitive and shallow towards people. Then I realize they're just my sad efforts at self-defense, my little scared heart shouting, "I am important! I really am!" Because we all need to be, right? And then Jesus says, "Of course you are. Calm down. You're okay." And then I am.) And back to downtown:

It's funny how a place five minutes away transports me. People don't all look the same downtown. You get some skinny jeans on guys and stretched out earlobes in the mix and I relax. I'm not knocking suburbia, but sometimes I feel like I can't breathe. Where's the weirdness? There's definitely not enough weirdness here for me. But maybe it's really the coexisting that soothes my soul. You're alright with me and I'm alright with you even though we're different. Ahh...that feels good. If that weren't enough, there are still places for Brian and I to discover downtown. And it's dark and twinkly. Especially when we got out of our movie tonight.