I have glutted on richness and welcome hyssop . . .
Dillard is talking about generosity and thankfulness. Richness and welcome. She talks about rising up, like a monarch butterfly. Gliding on the winds. Up and down. Dillard's celebrating the real world, naked and unadorned by the pearl of sunlight. Not gilded by false expectations.
I went to a Thanksgiving service this evening at my wife's church. Her pastor is from Liberia and is one of the most spiritual people that I've ever met. His is a faith that is unreserved. He doesn't hold anything back from God. His wife and kids are still in Liberia. So, he's here by himself in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, where not a whole lot of people look or sound like him.
Yet, like Dillard, he is full of joy and thankfulness. Tonight, he spoke about the upcoming holiday. Talked about food and family and friends. Yet, he went on, most people leave out the most important element in this festival of gratitude. Not a whole lot of people raise their hands, shout "Hallelujah!" to the heavens on Thanksgiving Day. God is the Great Provider, and we forget to thank Him.
After the service, we all sat around and ate pie. Blueberry. Apple. Pumpkin. Raspberry. There was a young woman who was weeping at a table near me. I'm not sure why, and I also don't know why I didn't get up and go to her. Maybe she needed a hug. Maybe she was just overwhelmed with gratitude and joy. Maybe her mother had just died. Or maybe her heart had just been broken. Like I said, I just don't know. But I missed an opportunity to show a little compassion, Share a little happiness.
Saint Marty is thankful for the blueberry pie he had tonight. He's also going to say a prayer for that young woman. A prayer for laughter instead of tears.