Jill and I watched Band of Brothers last week. Two a night.
It is one thing to think, “I have many, many people to thank so I could rest at ease today with my family.” It is another thing to see their story told by Ambrose, Speilberg, and Hanks so poignantly — and then see the old men speak before each installment, who lived, fought and endured so much in battle, and in so many nightmares since.
To my wounded friends, who served in a war you may or may not have agreed with in Iraq and Afghanistan. Your wounds, visible and not, make getting out of bed every morning a matter of courage.
To you who minister, fight hunger and hopelessness for kids and people we feel hopeful for on Thanksgiving — and forget on Black Friday.
For you sweating the launch of your little business. Your faith is stunning. If people buy, you eat. If not, you worry.
To you first responders who spend some time bored and the rest on the abyss of terror. The EMTs, docs, and nurses as well who reach the end of technology and bite your lips in hope on any given night in the ER.
I can go on like this for a while. And I should. And so should you.
Thank you is not an emotion. It is something we invent a way to say to people who don’t do it for the praise, but will fight back tears on the day we demonstrate ours.
Many heroes need one of us to say, “Thank you, hero.”
Hebrews’ writer said: Invent ways to encourage one another to good works. You know what is so cool about the book of Hebrews in the bible? The writer is faceless, nameless, the object of much conjecture: just like the people I have to invent ways to thank.