Beginning Again

January 1, 2019

It’s been said that our bodies are renewed at the cellular level every seven years, that physically we are literally not the same people we were seven years ago. I’m not sure that’s true, and have trouble imagining how our memories could be transmitted to new brain cells or how I could remain recognizable with an entirely new body. Besides, new things are supposed to work better than the old; I’m not seeing that happening when I get out of bed in the morning.

Seven years ago today, I began my journey of gratitude, vowing to eschew political and negative words for positive and upbuilding ones. Doing so lifted the clouds of melancholy that hung over my head for years. They have returned only so long as I drifted from my resolution, retreating once more when I get my thinking back on track. It has been an amazing journey. As I’ve said many times before, I didn’t realize the depth of my disobedience and faithlessness in neglecting gratitude. 1 Thessalonians 5:18 commands it, and my neglect of this command was just as sinful as if I had robbed or killed someone. In fact, I was robbing myself (and Linda) of joy, and was slowly killing my soul.

The discipline of gratitude with which I began was a calendar by Ann Voskamp that suggested three things each day for which to give thanks. I followed that for a year, then ventured off on my own, wandering occasionally into Scriptural, social, and theological commentary. Lately, it has felt as if I were getting a bit stale, that my observations have been shallow and too personally specific. After all, most everyone who has them is proud of their grandchildren. Who needs me to blather on about mine? So, I’ve decided seven years is a good time to come full circle, revisiting that calendar of gratitude. Here’s today’s offering:

THREE GIFTS HEARD

1.  The fact that I can hear at all is for me, a miracle. This morning, Linda spoke to me before I had put in my hearing aids. I was shocked at how little I could understand without them, the years I missed when my hearing was deteriorating, and the gift and miracle I have been given. For most of human history, hearing loss was simply something to be endured. The two tiny miracles that sit behind my ears are life-giving, allowing me to participate in conversations and be a part of all that happens all around me. 

2.  St. Paul tells us that “faith comes by hearing” (Romans 10:17). In his opening words of the Revelation, St. John offered a special blessing to those who “hear the words of this prophecy” (Revelation 1:3). Christians often speak of desiring to “see” Jesus. We imagine that if we could behold him in his glory, or had we been there to observe his passion, that we would be more devoted and faithful. But it was none other than Jesus himself who told Thomas, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are they who have not seen, and yet believed” (John 20:29). Perhaps seeing is not all that it’s cracked up to be. Maybe if we listened better, we would be better. So I am thankful for the command to listen, and the promised blessing for those who hear.

3.  I heard Linda speaking to me this morning. I listened to our son Nathan as we drove to a friend’s house this afternoon, talking all the way about the little things that bind relationships together, and the terrible impact of poverty on people’s lives. I heard this friend’s tearful thank you’s as we delivered the hot water tank he so desperately needed. “You are the only real friends I have,” he sobbed. Having known him for years, I don’t think he was play acting. My heart listened to our granddaughter Abi as she gave me a hug and an “Love you,” when she and her boyfriend popped in for a quick visit. I heard my daughter’s voice inviting us for dinner, and the laughter of her children as we talked and played games at the table. Those blessed with good hearing have no idea how precious is this gift. I’ve not even touched on the beauty of a symphony, the joy of playing bass or bassoon, or actually hearing a bird singing. I am grateful tonight for this amazing gift.