The Summer Credits
by Joey Davis
At the end of movies there appear the "credits." Lists of those to whom recognition and appreciation are due. Without these folks, the movie would not have been possible. In that spirit, as summer ends, I write my own credits. These folks make life sing for me with unknowing gifts. Thanks to the huge man in the large blue tractor trailer for not honking at me while I sat daydreaming through a green light. No matter the source, grace is amazing.
Thanks to the young man at the Senior Banquet who waited around until everyone was gone so that he could hug me without feeling embarrassed. I'll never forget it . . . or you.
Thanks to the little girl at VBS who ran up to me, hugged my legs and called me daddy. . . and then hugged me again when she found out that I wasn't her daddy. The love of a child is precious.
Thanks to the wrinkled old lady who sat in the wading pool and took on all comers in a splashing contest. You reminded me that slices of childhood can happen anywhere and at anytime.
Thanks to the young man who ate two pounds of prime rib in one sitting. You amazed your friends, shocked the waitress, and gave me a new illustration for hungering after righteousness.
Thanks to, the young couple who asked me to perform their wedding even though I was a less than obvious choice. May your life be filled with things of which dreams are made.
Thanks to the person who planted flowers in front of Bob Evans Restaurant, in Cincinnati, Ohio, for putting up the sign "Flowers - Have Some. " Obviously the flowers were not as beautiful as the gardener's spirit of giving.
Thanks to the young woman who, on a youth trip, remembered that Pierce My Ear is my favorite song and persuaded everyone in the van to sing it. Singing stirs the soul like nothing else can.
Thanks to the deaf people in the Kroger's store who I knew were "telling jokes (don't know how, but I knew). Thanks for including me in laughter without words, for laughter helps us all navigate the intersections of life.
Thanks to the service station attendant for washing my windshield even though I was at the self-service pump and for singing the old Patsy Cline song Crazy. It reminded me that it's important to see where you're going and kept me singing all day.
There is more. God's gifts of joy and grace were abundant this summer. In these moments God reminded me that there is more news in the world than could ever be reported in the newspapers.'" The news is good. The gifts-are free.
August 10, 1997
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