A Fall Uplift

Every year, just after Thanksgiving I'm overcome with a sense of deep blessedness, combined with frisky rambunctiousness. I feel miles away from problems and drama. I feel like starting new house, auto, or moto projects. I feel like buying stuff. I feel like going to church seven days a week just to say "Thank you" to God. I feel like packing up my scooter and heading out for an interminable pub crawl and spending every evening around a fire with my friends.

This year the festive mood has returned as faithfully as the autumn colors. Lots of factors come into play here.  A couple of paychecks have distanced me from the financially arid summer. I find myself out of the frying pan yet not quite into the fire at work. That's as good as work gets, I suppose. There is peace in the family. My grandson continues to add joy and humor to our lives and we two are thick as thieves. My son has steady work locally and progresses as an apprentice electrician while walking ever more closely with Jesus.


Yup, I find myself feeling deeply blessed, and frisky.


The stable of steeds also provides its customary portion of pleasant satisfaction. Since I ride a lot in the summer, by the time fall arrives I've got worn tires, old oil, and rattles. Somewhere between Thanksgiving and Christmas all that gets taken care of, and well-running tight machines with nice round tires under their fenders make me giddy. This summer I was busy with other needs, rode less, and so the bikes have required less care.  For a Harley owner that's a financial boon equivalent to being able to skip a house payment.

The winter of 2011 finds me feeling even more blessed than usual. In August I bought a '31 Model A pickup from my brother. The vehicle has spent most of the last 20 years under a tarp at my Dad's place, and for some reason my brother decided to offer it to me at a reasonable price. This new addition to our stock of high maintenance vehicles has kept me happily tinkering in the garage for weeks now.  I've rewired the entire car, replaced the whole exhaust system, rebuilt the carburetor. And just this past weekend I fired it up and ironed out a few more mechanical issues. My wife is in love with this car and has green-lighted every request to buy the parts to get it on the road. Hence, I've spent many happy hours in the garage sipping home brew and puzzling over my new pickup while my grandson plays endlessly nearby.


I know that life "under the sun" is filled with vanity. I know nothing I do with metal or wood will last much longer than I do, and altogether we'll return to dust. My bikes are getting more worn, faded, and dated. The cars I'm maintaining are already over 80 years old and show it. It's a losing proposition.  Even the loving hours I'm spending with my family will be faded memories eclipsed by more current concerns in their minds as I myself grow old like my bikes and cars. All of which makes it the more striking to me that God grants me such pleasure in plainly temporal things. I guess His pleasure in making me happy isn't as pragmatic as all that. He's making me happy because that's what He loves to do. And I am . . happy.