Family

This morning, Christmas morning, has always been a time of family togetherness for me. I arose this Christmassy morning to Christmassy smells and a Christmassy gray sky in Nashville, TN. It was unusually warm for December 25th, 55 degrees when I awoke although the outside air looked damp, the moisture having survived the early winter thunderstorm the night before. I walked downstairs where my mom and dad were already awake and active doing such important things as folding clothes and focused intently on doing next to nothing. My mom hugs me and says, "Did we wake you up?" This is a typical morning greeting in the Crosby family. "Good morning" followed usually by "Did I wake you up" seemingly in search of a reason to apologize. This morning the typical greeting was issued with a "Merry Christmas" stuck in the mix for good cheer. I sat down in the brown recliner as Nancy Spencer from Channel 4 was telling me that it would be cloudy today. I turned me head slightly to the left and looked out the window confirming her diagnosis of the day ahead as if she were looking to me for reassurance that she had made the right call.

At this point an idea sparked in my head. This is a morning that calls for a fire in the fireplace! How delightful that would be on this Christmas morning. The semi-cool outside air, a gray sky, the quiet morning with the twinkling lights on the tree, the smell of cinnamon rolls in the oven upstairs. Only one problem lay in my path to a near perfect Christmas scene. We don't have a fireplace. So I chose the next best thing. I clicked the ONDemand button on the TV and found the 47 minute recording of a fireplace fire. On mom and dad's 55" LCD HDTV my fire was brilliantly blazing in moments. We sat and ooo’d and ahhh’d at it for 15-20 minutes or so delighted at how wonderful this technology was. After I was toasty warm in spirit I decided to grab a quick shower before my brother arose to begin the circus of the presenting of the gifts.

Presents came and went and all were delighted by their exchange of getting and receiving their annual colorful packages filled with untold treasures nearly all of these decided upon by the receiver some weeks prior. At this point, my dear mother bestows the news that "someone" would need to go get grandmama for Christmas lunch. Not a burden at all but the normal act is staged with moans and groans before my brother and I get up and begin getting ready to go. Lunch was wonderful as usual with the traditions of our favorite dishes prepared with love and very few low fat ingredients. Then it is on to visiting and good talk and good fun as we sat and talked about everything under the sun, swapping old embarrassing stories as well as new political frustrations.

These traditions and the very memories from years past are part of a family. They make the holiday even if there are no presents, no 55" LCD HDTV, or in our case, no fireplace.

Family is a strange entity, something that we neither choose nor can we change. Most of our families did not ask if we cared to join them. We didn’t go to Wal-Mart and pick out our family. Our family just is. For some, family is something that lifts us up and makes us think of warmth and caring. For others it conjures up thoughts of frustration, bickering, or even abandonment. Most of us probably fall somewhere in the middle, neither liking nor hating all parts of our family experience.

So what do we consider family? I had a friend recently embark upon a spat of vast irrational proportion with his father. This spat turned into hurtful words which turned into hurtful actions and these have yet to be reconciled. Having tried to reason with the friend and quickly given up, I learned something about family. He stated to me, "Those people," referring to his mother, father, and sister, "are not my family anymore." "Family is what has your back when times get tough; that sticks with you through thick and thin. Family is what you can lean on when you need something." While I agree with him somewhat, I think family can sometimes be more than that. He described the positive side of the family, what a fully functioning healthy family should look like. Which of us has ever truly seen a fully functioning healthy perfect family? Family can also be people who have hurt us yet we stay the course and are the bigger person because they are family. True, there are family members whom we would just assume send back to the stork and get our money back. While they make the hair on the back of our neck stand up sometimes, and infuriate us to no end sometimes, they are still family.

I gave the eulogy at the second family funeral in less than 6 months last weekend. As my great aunt had passed away suddenly one of her sons quickly began planning the arrangements for the service. There had apparently been a family spat nearly 20 years prior between my great aunt and her other son. This other son, while having been informed of his mother’s death, did not even attend her funeral service. Whether he liked it or not. Whether he had hard feelings or not, this is family and family comes together through thick and thin even when we don't like each other. This is what family is all about. This is what family does. It looks past differences and comes back together even through the frustrations and past history. Family is something that you can get away from geographically but can’t ever escape genetically and biologically. Family is blood. We are in and of one another. Connected.

While family may change throughout the years as marriages and children come into the mix it does remain stable in the fact that it is always there. The good with the bad. The fun with the frustration. Family is there to stay. "Blood is thicker than water" they say. I don’t know who said that but it makes me wonder who “they” are and why they chose water. Blood is thicker than a lot of things really. It's thicker than orange juice and also milk I think. It might depend on if it's whole milk or not though. Most of our families probably have real psychological problems lying within them somewhere, but these irritants are part of what make family.....family.

As I sit writing this on Christmas night, mom lies in the recliner beside me proudly wrapped in her new Snuggie snoring loudly (it's true mama, you were). Dad sits to my right on his couch watching The Untouchables, one of his TV Series from the 60's. Another Christmas is done. There are no presents underneath the tree behind me and the presents that once made it their home waiting for their chance to reveal their treasures will one day be broken and outdated making way for new and most likely more expensive surprises. Family is right where they are supposed to be though. The family exists and goes on through generation after generation. The irritants, the joys, the celebrations. Stability in tradition. Stability and connectedness in blood. “Where are you from” we commonly ask when meeting for the first time? If the relationship grows and lasts, most surely the conversation will turn from “Where are you from” to “Who are you from?” This is what matters. This is where we connect.

Hugs

I really like hugs.

I don’t hug much...but would like to do it more often.

I think it began in middle school when I thought it wasn’t cool for guys to hug.

NOTE: This is normal.

After I finished that phase I slowly moved into my high school phase where it was awkward to hug girls because none of them knew I existed.

NOTE: Hugging air does not have the same emotional effect as hugging another human being. NOTE²: I’m not sure if this is normal or not.

From then until about 3 years ago, I went through the phase where it was awkward because of my size. At 6’1” I still struggle to understand why people insist on hugging me around the neck. This is a difficult and an awkward task for me. I’m forced to bend over at a strange angle so someone can reach my neck all the while reaching my arms out under theirs and trying to reciprocate the hug. Let’s just be rational about our hugs folks. I’m taller than you. You go underneath and I’ll go above. It’s just better this way.

NOTE: If you are larger than 6’1” then I will go underneath.

Then I went to graduate school where I was forbidden to hug. Yes, that’s correct, NO HUGGING ALLOWED! Ok, at least not in my professional career. The faculty quickly informed us that hugging was a breach of client/therapist boundaries and that therapists had been sued for hugging their clients. I decided to go the extra mile and just not touch anyone. There’s one client, a mentally retarded 9 year old girl who insists on giving me a “Big ‘ol papa bear hug” every time I see her and saying, “See you later alligator” as she picks me up off the ground before leaving.

NOTE: If I get sued by a mentally retarded 9 year old girl then I have larger problems than a lawsuit, like my friends who will make fun of me for the rest of my life....for getting sued by a mentally retarded 9 year old girl...for hugging.

A hug can say:

I love you

I’m sorry

I’m hurting

I’m excited

I’m happy for you

Hello

Goodbye

You’re about to get lucky

I would like to get lucky

Thank you

Please

I missed you

Etc.

Etc.

Etc.

There’s something about human touch that just makes you feel warm inside. There’s a connection when you can feel another person and they can feel you. Hospital workers say again and again that when someone is near death sometimes their last sense to go is touch. They can still feel a pat on the hand or a kiss on the forehead. Human touch is a powerful force.

When I think out the power of touch I think about Jesus and when he healed the man with leprosy.

Leprosy as we all remember from our historically accurate summer VBS skits was when a guy from church spread white quilt batting over his arms and rubbed hot dog condiments into it in order to make it look as disgusting as possible. As real as a portrayal as that was, actual leprosy involves nerve damage to the skin to the point where the skin forms lesions and rots away sometimes even causing whole body parts to autoamputate.

A leper was ostracized and forced to live outside of town apart from his or her family and friends for fear of further spread of the disease. You had to constantly be reminded of your illness and loneliness by yelling “Unclean” Unclean! when passersby came along the road so that they knew you were a leper and could stay away. This disease was not only physically debilitating, but also emotionally destructive as well.

Back to Jesus. So here’s a man in front of him who has first of all done something completely socially unacceptable. He is in Jesus’ presence. As this leper walks up in the middle of a crowd and through tears begs Jesus to heal him, you can imagine the screams and shrieks of those jumping away from him. What does Jesus do though? Jesus touches the man and says, “I am willing to heal you. Be clean.”

Jesus touches him.

A leper

Could Jesus have just as easily done this miracle without touching him? Of course. But Jesus knew that there was something about being touched. Jesus knew that this man had likely not been touched in weeks, months, years, possibly even decades. Jesus not only gave this man his health back, but gave him something more. Jesus showed him love.

Love

After all, love is ultimately what touch is all about right?

Handshakes

Pats on the back

Noogies

Slaps on the butt (for football players only please)

Oh yeah, and hugs.

Go hug somebody.

NOTE TO THE READER: Aside from clients (Except for mentally retarded 9 year old girls) and lepers (I am not the LORD) I am currently accepting hugs of all shapes and sizes the next time we meet in person.

Conflict

It sometimes seems that we go through our lives wanting so badly to make a difference and wanting to form meaning out of nothingness. So often we look for companionship in our new 55” LCD TV or in our new Acura SUV with heated seats and extra cup holders. The loneliness still persists. We work 40+ hours per week, climb the corporate ladder, run ourselves to death, only to feel ultimately empty. Contentment is only a nebulous theory that we unknowingly strive for but can’t seem to grasp what it might be like to arrive at. The conflict in my life internally or externally seems to destroy my hope for utter contentment. Maybe it isn’t possible to be content. Maybe we were not created to be utterly content here.

I went to listen to one of my favorite author speak the other night. He proposed a preposterous hypothesis that perhaps God meant for us to have conflict in our lives. This made me begin to contemplate why the God that I had been taught about would ever want me to have conflict in my life. Having thought through various ideas, I soon realized that the God that had been presented to me in Sunday school up through high school and even some in college was not the real God. The God I grew up learning about was said to have told me that if I went to church on Sunday mornings, Sunday nights, and Wednesday nights, didn’t have sex until I was married, didn’t drink alcohol, didn’t use bad words, and most importantly didn’t use musical instruments in worship (This one makes me laugh hysterically) then He would take care of me and I would be happy for the most part. I put my coin of good behavior in the God slot machine and more times than not the God slot machine would pay off rewarding me with good things. It was somewhat of a barter system because God obviously needs me to behave down here and likewise I needed for things to go smoothly in my life right? This is not the God I now know and have a relationship with. More importantly this is not the God that I know from reading the ancient texts.

As I continue, I do not hide the fact that much of what I am saying is a twist of what Donald Miller writes and spoke on a few nights ago as I sat soaking up his words like a fair skinned red headed child soaking up UV rays. Perhaps when God created the world, He placed conflict in it for a reason. Perhaps conflict was present before the fall of man. Don Miller led me to Genesis chapter 2 where Adam and God are hanging out in the Garden. Let’s not forget that the Garden of Eden is a perfect environment. Things were physically and emotionally as God meant for them to be. Then we read chapter 2. God made Adam but Adam was lonely. God said, “It is not good for my man Adam here to be alone.” This is the first time that something is “Not good.” So in the epitome of perfection; a perfect man, a perfect God whom the perfect man is in relationship with, a perfect environment for the perfect man to be in relationship to a perfect God, there is conflict. So then God creates Eve right? Wrong. God then brings all of the birds and fish and animals to Adam to name them. Now imagine how long that would have taken to name all of the animals. 20-50-100-150 years maybe. For 150 years, things were not as they should have been. Things were not ultimately good because it was not good for the man to be alone. For 150 years, however, God allowed Adam to be alone while Adam worked. Why would God allow this conflict to intentionally persist? God could have created Eve once He realized that there was a discrepancy between the way things should have been and the way things were.

It is here that we realize why God gets paid the big bucks. It is here that we acknowledge that it is good that we are not in control and that He is. I struggle to wrap my mind around how He uses conflict to our benefit though. I lightly dabble in the thought that by creating conflict God is trying to draw me into a more intimate relationship with Him. I say lightly dabble though because that explanation sounds so cliché. In part, this may be true. There is more to it than that though. Perhaps conflict also lets us appreciate part of creation. The toil and sweat of a farmer in his field makes the harvested crop more greatly appreciated. The storm makes the calm seas more welcomed. The loneliness of the man in the Garden makes the creation of a companion so appreciated, so cherished, and so treasured that he would surely delight in this gift that God had generously given him. Conflict in creation is God’s blessing to us in balancing that which we yearn for and struggle against. It is when we can understand the role of conflict that we might take the nothingness, the loneliness, and the emptiness and allow God to form our meaning and define contentment for us.

Mail

Dear God,

It’s been awhile since I’ve written. Things have just been busy with the holidays thus far is all. We did chat briefly when I said the blessing for the food at Thanksgiving remember? It was more of a formality though, something that is my “job” every year. I am thankful even when I don’t say so you know? When I take a step back and really think about it, I acknowledge that it all comes from you. Sometimes things just get hectic and busy. I guess my mind does not naturally drift to you. I feel stuck a lot, like I am churning my wheels and they’re sinking deeper in the sand but I’m not going anywhere. I heard a preacher the other day talk about the story that you placed us in. I’m trying as hard as I can to do what I would think you would want me to do in the story. I try to do things right and steer clear of conflict. I’m doing an ok job in my opinion. Why isn’t it working out yet? Answers would be greatly appreciated down here. Things get confusing a lot. Thanks for reading...and for being there all the time for me to come to. I promise that my next letter won’t be this long in coming.

Sincerely,

Daniel

Dear Daniel,

It has been awhile since your last letter. You don’t have to explain, I understand that things get hectic this time of year. I do enjoy hearing from you though; more than anything really. Even when we don’t chat very often, I still love watching you and seeing how you are living out the story that I placed you in. Keep in mind that you are part of a much larger story than you are even aware. You have those thoughts frequently where you think I’m against you or that I am out to squelch your happiness and joy. Sometimes it hurts when I am working to give you the desires of your heart and you are trying to do it for yourself. I told you how much I care for you and that if you would only trust me that I would bring you contentment. You don’t seem to like my plan a lot of the time though. Remember also, I do thing at precisely the right time, never early and never late. Maybe patience is something you could work on between now and the next time you write. If you are patient and just let go of some of the control you have on your life, then I am planning some pretty great things here in the next little while. That’s all you need to know for now, just let go a little bit. If you’re holding on too tight then you might even miss part of what’s around the next corner. It was good to hear from you and I look forward to hearing from you soon. I love you.

Sincerely,

God

Peas and Carrots

Peas and carrots. That’s what I’m eating as I write. Some people write in fancy coffee shops or rented offices in the trendy district like the Gulch. I eat peas and carrots when I couldn’t find anything else for lunch. They’re not very good because I couldn’t find any salt in the office. We had 4 things of pepper. In between sessions when I’m not snacking on mixed vegetables, I also find time to complain about the company over the chat messenger thingy with people in other offices. It’s also a good time to ponder and write. Between my peas and carrots without any salt and some chat over the interoffice messenger it’s been a highly fascinating day. Note: There should be a sarcasm font added to computers. Electronic communication takes the edge off of work throughout the day. If you think about it, it’s ridiculous that we sit at computers and type text to one another when we could easily just call. I mean, if we’re typing, we’re obviously not doing anything productive and could more efficiently call. My dad would have an opinion on this I’m certain.

I had a Skype conversation with a good friend yesterday. She’s overseas doing graduate school. On second thought it wasn’t Skype. We were supposed to Skype but her internet connection has been subpar so we just typed in the Facebook chat thing until her internet died again. We’ve explored nearly every topic imaginable in our conversations over the past year or so since we have grown closer in our friendship. I was thinking about something that I said to her yesterday. The conversation had died down slightly and she said, “So what do you want to talk about?” I’m horrible at coming up with conversation topics on the spur of the moment, it drives me nuts actually. I’ve always thought that conversation was an informal thing, something that involves give and take, something that just happens between people. “What do you want to talk about?” I asked. “Whatever,” she said. Dodging the hint that I was supposed to pick the topic I said, “What do you want to know about me? I’ll pretty much tell you whatever you want to know.” In this statement I was half expecting questions to arise such as, “What’s your favorite color” or “Do you have a crush on anyone at the moment?” The response I received was an invitation to converse about the very statement I had made, about why I was so open about myself. I think she has trouble understanding my transparency sometimes because she considers herself more private. I had never thought about it really. The conversation took me back to another I had had over said chat messenger at work with a coworker. She was a new employee and quite attractive. Being the welcoming employee that I was, I felt obligated to get to know her and make her feel as if she were a part of the team. I remember having made the same statement to her that I had made to my friend overseas. As we were trading chit for chat, I said, “So what do you want to know about me. You just ask and I’ll tell.” It’s not that I’m a player although it may appear so from all indications.

When I ask the question, I honestly do mean it. I began to ponder why I am so open. Having thought about it for awhile I now think that it might be because I value genuineness in humanity. Genuineness in a person is a big deal for me I guess. When I catch someone doing some purely altruistic act my heart grows a little warmer. When I see someone standing on a milk crate preaching on a street corner I can appreciate the genuineness of that act. I wouldn’t do it myself, but I think to myself, “Wow, that guy has some balls to get out here and do that.” I know a guy who used the rest of his money one semester in college to buy 60 meals at the food court and take them to homeless people downtown. I tagged along and witnessed him talking to these people and praying with them on 1st Avenue in Nashville. I would like to believe that I am a genuine person; that I am the same across all situations and that I don’t put on a front to different groups of people. I think I may think too highly of myself though. I think I am genuinely Bipolar meaning that I waver back and forth from one pole to the other between altruism and cynicism. Maybe I’m being too hard on myself. Maybe I’m thinking too highly of myself.

I had a conversation with a friend recently about genuineness. We were sitting in traffic waiting to get off the exit for my first Titan’s game. He had a coveted parking pass which was nice. It did not let us bypass traffic. We had plenty of time to talk. He made a statement about genuineness that made me think. He’s only like 2 years older than me but for some reason I look up to him as a wise person. “The way you can tell if someone is being genuine with you,” he said, “is to ask yourself this question. ‘If I all of a sudden I had $1 Million dollars, would they treat me differently?” This all sprang from a discussion about raising money for the company he works for. I believe that very few executive level people are genuine. Call me a cynic (Really it’s ok to call me one. I called myself one earlier, remember?), but most of these folks that I know can smell money from 10 miles away and will do whatever it takes to get at it. It’s like politics on a nongovernmental level. I get frustrated when the almighty dollar sweeps over good intentions and corrupts and ruins people who had joy before they got tangled with it. The money shouldn’t matter. Genuineness should matter. The relationship should matter.

I want people to be real with me. I don’t want people to like me because of how fat my wallet is (I rarely have to worry about this one) or how handsome I am (This one is even more rare). I want people to know the real me and like me anyway. I want people to see the weaknesses, flaws, and [insert other generalized negative personal feature here] and stick with me anyway. So often we are pulled between the wanting to truly be known by another and that fear that if they do know us, then they might not accept us. We want so badly to connect but a human connection requires both sides to be in agreement and acceptance of the other. Acceptance of the good along with the bad.

I think this is why people have sex so much and with so many people. In the sex, they are really looking for a genuine connection. They are looking to share their soul with another. Sadly it doesn’t work. They don’t know who they are so they go from this person to that person asking, “Do you know who I am?” This world is a lonely place. It’s a couples’ world. We want to connect soul to soul with another. We want to know who we are and have real conversation, real answers. Genuineness. We come up short though because I don’t know who you are and you don’t know who I am. I can tell you all my secrets and you still will not fully know who I am.

In Genesis, God says that we were created in His image.

God is made up of Father, Son, and Spirit.

Three in One.

Trinity.

Community.

Fully connected.

Genuine.

Can you imagine the connectedness between the three? When God created man in His own image, he passed that connectedness, that genuineness on to his people. Imagine again, a world with no shame, no doubt, no insecurity. The first people lived in this world. The connection they had with one another was likely indescribable. In fact, they were so connected to one another and to God that they walked with God through the garden God had given them to work.

I was thinking how I would like to have that relationship. Then I thought that I sort of have it already. I can go to God and ask Him, “Who am I?” and He can tell me. I can show him all of my junk, the dark muddy places of my heart. Even seeing all of this, He still accepts me unconditionally. I don’t even have to ask Him my question, “What do you want to know about me? I’ll tell you pretty much anything” because He already knows me. He created me. He watches me while I sleep, while I’m at work, in my loneliness, and in my joy. He stands beside me and says, “Daniel, yes, I know him. He belongs to me. Let me just tell you all of the amazing things that I have planned for his life; things he can’t even begin to fathom.” Genuineness, authentic genuineness, is present only in our relationship with out Creator. That’s something I want. That’s exciting. That’s a lot better than peas and carrots without salt.

An Unexpected Running Companion

I’m still sweating a bit. The Price is Right is on in the background. The window is open on the warm cloudy fall day. My run went well. ‘Well’ is a relative term I suppose. The actual run was itself not so great. I arrived at my usual area of departure, the Greenway near my home. Since my knee began screaming at me last week, I decided to take a week off. My plan this morning was to begin again and do a leisurely slow 4 miles, an easy to mediocre distance and pace in the running world. Stretched a little and I was off. Knee felt good, not breathing too hard, saying good morning to the retired old people who are also out and about on this Friday morning. Nice morning. From out of nowhere up beside me comes another pounder of the pavement, someone else crazy enough to run even though there isn’t a wild animal chasing them. He was thinner than I am and his skin was about as dark as I have seen. He immediately struck up a conversation as if he knew me. “You’re a runner,” he said. “It would appear so since I am in fact running at the moment,” I sarcastically thought to myself. He was not out of breath at all and I wondered aloud how far he had planned on running this particular morning. “I’m shooting for 18,” he said, “but I’ve only done about 12 so far. How many are you doing?” I contemplated lying and saying something like 10 or 12. That’s a respectable distance for a white guy who is obviously not a professional athlete as my running companion. “I’m only doing four,” I said, quickly following that up with the story of how my knee had been hurting the week before. He was not sympathetic and urged me to do at least 6 with him promising to get me through it. By this time we were not at a leisurely place anymore. “We’ll...see....how...I...feel,” I said forcing words through my deep breaths as the sweat was already beginning to run down my forehead. He obviously noticed that I was struggling to talk and thus began enlightening me with his running history. He was a marathoner and had run the Country Music Marathon here in Nashville this past April. He had not done very well though because he had only begun training a month before. His time...2 hours and 50 minutes. The winner did it in 2 hours and 13 minutes this year. “That’s not bad,” I said, trying to seem somewhat neutral and unimpressed in my tone of voice. His plan was to run it this coming year in at least 2 hours and 25 minutes since he was training now. As we approached an ominous looking hill I attempted to slow down. “Come on man,” he said, “You do good. You skinny like a runner.” “Ha!” was all I could mutter as we climbed the hill. Trying to switch the conversation away from running as I was definitely outmatched I said, “So where are you from?” “Sudan,” he replied, “I come over in 1999 through immigration due to the war.” Coming down the other side of the hill now, I got my breath back in time to tell him that I knew a couple of the Lost Boys, a group of teens at the time from Sudan who had come to the U.S. together to escape the government genocide. He did not know them and continued in his story saying, “I’ve been working at an auto parts store and I get sworn in for the U.S. National Guard on Monday. I want to go to school and they’ll pay for it.” “That’s great,” I said, “Good luck with that.” He was 32 years old. I had guessed 22. He seemed like a genuine nice guy and through my cramping and pain was glad I had met him. “So you going 6 with me?” he asked. All we had done was 2 ½ miles and my legs were throbbing telling me how dumb I was for pretending to be a real runner. “I think I’m going to just turn around and do 4,” I said. He seemed fine with that as we approached my turnaround point. “I’m Dol,” he said. “You’re what?” I asked. “My name,” he said, “My name is Dol.” “Doyle?” I asked. “No, Dol, D-O-L,” he replied. I introduced myself and said that I hoped we would meet again and perhaps run together...when I was in slightly better shape. I also mentioned my hurt knee again. “You mentioned that already,” he said. “Oh yeah,” I said, “pretending to have forgotten.” I told him good luck on his run and I turned around to head back to the car. I ran looking over my shoulder for another 50 yards and then walked the rest of the way back to the car feeling completely inadequate as a runner but feeling as if I had made a new friend. It was a good run and a good beginning to my day off. I hope to meet him again.

It’s amazing all the people that God brings into our lives. Some nice. Some mean and hateful. All meant to make a difference in this world. All here for a purpose. All cherished by God and priceless in His eyes. 6 billion people on this planet and God knows every single one. I’m reminded of a verse in Psalms in which the author writes, “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.” Psalm 139:13-14. Each individual, most of whom we will never meet, unless we meet randomly on a run at the Greenway, is part of our God’s plan for creation. He created us intricately and smiles as He places us on His earth giving us the power to be a part of the story and continue creating in His image just as He created each one of us. What an honor. What a responsibility. What a good God.