Father,

I thank you for who you are. Who you are is all light and joy and life. John 10:10 kind of life. Life to the full.

You have come that I may have life, and that to the full. That’s just like you, God. You love me and you love to bring me life.

You always pull through. You always come through in the end; you are my hero.

Thank you for my conversation last night on the phone; thank you that you allowed me to engage in honest communication with you and with the person I was talking with. Thank you for the last night that that happened, too.

Thank you, God for the Hold Steady. For familiar music.

Father, I thank you for comic strips and that I can cut them out. Thank you for the joy of sitting on the floor, scissors in hand, surrounded by different kinds of papers. For the joy of cutting and pasting, the tangibility of it!

God, well, you invented touch, didn’t you? I love it! I love getting to feel the keys under my fingers.

Too much praise? Too much thanksgiving? That can’t happen with you, God. You are worthy of endless praise and thanks, you light-and-life-and-joy God.

Father, I do thank you for light. Thank you for the light the was in my eyes yesterday evening. That was so nice.

I give myself over to you. I know that you love me. I know you are going to do what’s best for me.

A few more tangible things:

Thank you for blue and sky. And intoxicating color, God.

Thank you for the joy of writing out a script.

Thank you for bitter cold. And hot dogs that are too hot.

Thank you for my dear, beat-up shoes. (Oh, and for good punctuation.)

Thank you that my friend Ben thinks eloquence is okay/important too. (And, at the same time, for Paul’s foolishness and weakness he loves so much [your foolishness and weakness].)