Incomprehensible thanks

My heart is full.  So thank you.

Those of you who serve our country, thank you.

If you have served and gone to school on the G. I. Bill, then you join generations building an incomprehensibly astonishing country, complete with shortcomings the whole world can see.  Please continue building.

If you returned broken, marred, missing parts of body or soul, then you join a long line bleeding in blues, khaki, and camo: striving to rebuild bodies, minds and lives in countless re-enactments of America’s miracle.  Please don’t give up rebuilding.

If you’re eating turkey, or an MRE, or you’re quietly hungry again tonight, then fall in.  Queues of hungry men and women reach back to Valley Forge’s freezer, doing the impossible in Inchon or sweltering in malarial silence.  Please don’t shirk attempting the impossible with your wearied best.

And if you’re quiet in flag-draped box, ferried home by those who cannot flinch at your final high cost paid.  Come take a place with the mighty and abased, heroes with names on small white crosses and stars in quiet, landscaped hills.  Hallowed by you ransoming my dream.

No less so, Christ lovers, who were not surprised when those fearing your faith ushered you horrifically into eternity.  You, did John certainly see in his Revelation, crying to God at justice delayed to the last chance for those martyring you to come to His grace.

Incomprehensible. Price.  Possibility.

If you served my country or Lord, thank you.  May my courage in these dearly bought days, address my debt to you at a Banquet to which we’ve been invited on death’s other shore.

The Route Versus Routine

Another semester begins.  It is fall, so academia calls it a new year. 

I have 80 students in two classes, 70 and 11.  I am scrambling to learn names and faces.  Then in my online class I have almost half of it filled with serving military members around the world. 

I teach to give back.  I owe this country and God quite a lot, so I teach to give back. 

That is a cover.  I really teach because I have not grown weary of seeing a face light up with hope.  I relish eyes sparkling for the first time in a class as much as when I was in my twenties and they were my eyes. 

I smile to see someone move from a slouch to upright posture, to actually leaning in because the exchange in class has more than pricked his interest. 

Over the next few weeks these students will learn about themselves, about courage, about others, about how thinking sharpens your edge in business.  They will start to see that Creativity is a lifelong work of consistently overcoming never ending challenges — and will still choose to embark on that route. 

I have a few of them messaging and texting now so that they can ask questions about businesses and ideas for businesses.  I am behind in responding. 

This Route is not as easy as I might have chosen.  Jill and I have visited the brink of financial collapse and ruin more times than I care to count — and we are fiscally very conservative. 

So Faith whispers that the Route is demanding, scary, exciting, and beautiful in its turns and twists and that the Route is far, far better than the Routine or its abbreviated form: the Rut. 

Just a thought as I catch my breath, and “I have miles to go before I sleep.”   And THAT is part of the fun — creative people are dear friends, even if they like Frost and a host of other Creative souls have finished their Routes here on this plane of existence.