A Lovely Day in the Neighborhood

“It’s a lovely day in the neighborhood…”  Wasn’t that Mr. Rogers’ signature greeting?  Well, it is a lovely day in my neighborhood.  I just took my morning walk–a time I use to chat with God about situations in and out of my control.  For the most part, in my neighborhood, the sun came up this morning.  Birds in the trees along my route chirped joyful greetings.  A warm breeze toussled my hair.  I found it easy to rejoice and give thanks for my hubby, my family, my friends and my life.  Yes, Daddy God and I agree it’s a lovely day in my neighborhood.

But for those living in more troublous neighborhoods today, places like Oslo, Norway; indrug-infested inner cities; even an ill, shirt-tail relative living  in an ostensibly quiet neighborhood in Maine, praising God and giving thanks takes a different turn.

During good days, I sing and dance the tarantella.  During bad days– sooner or later we all have them–my exuberance slows to a dirge.  As one writer put it, “These are the times that try men’s souls.”  This is when I must dig into my cache of treasured memories for a nugget or two of God’s abundant  joy I’ve stored up during the good times, to help see me through.  This is when remembering that joy in the face of sorrow is the purest joy of all, a true gift of thanks to the Divine One.

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