When people tell me how lucky I am.. and there are a million things to say that about... my health, my beautiful, loving wife, friends, music, the house we bought a year and a half ago and made a home, the bad-reputation common sparrows that come to our feeder that no one really enjoys, whatever it may be, I say "I'm not lucky, I'm blessed." Being "lucky" sounds too ephemeral to suit me. Luck comes in two flavors. On Thanksgiving, and every other day of the year, I give thanks and praise to God that He has granted me all the blessings that fill my days.
I read your opening story Steven, and it brings to mind all the years when Art Thieme and I helped carry each other through countless letters and difficult times. I remembered those years and Art in a verse of a song that I wrote, and the line "And for the burdens that we share, let us lift our voice in praise." There is even a blessing in sharing burdens.
The chorus to the song is:
For the good old days are still to come Though the hard times are not over For we must wear that thorny crown To walk the fields of clover.
May you walk the fields of clover in the coming year, buddy..