“The Freedom to Be Unhappy”

I am reading a book for review that is entitled, Reading with Feeling: Affect Theory and the Bible.[1]  It is a very thought-provoking collection of articles about how to read the Bible in a way that takes feelings seriously.

While it is a good book, sometimes it provokes my thinking, and sometimes it simply provokes me.  However, I often need to be provoked.

I just finished reading a chapter entitled “Prophecy and the Problem of Happiness: The Case of Jonah,” by Rhiannon Graybill.[2]  Graybill argues that we need to take seriously Jonah’s unhappiness at God for sparing Nineveh.  While many readers fault Jonah for his unhappiness, Graybill argues for Jonah’s “freedom to be unhappy.”  She thinks of God as coercive in attempting to deal with Jonah’s unhappiness.

I agree that we must take seriously our own unhappiness and the unhappiness of others.  I also agree that unhappiness can provide an incentive for hope and change.  These are very important points in a society (and in churches) that has made a fetish of a very superficial approach to happiness.

However, my disagreement with Graybill’s approach is with one thing that she seems to me to be explicitly saying, and another thing that I think her approach implies.

First, I am not sure that God’s approach should be described as “coercive,” as Graybill states.  God provides some object lessons and asks some questions.  If this is coercive, it is a fairly open-ended brand of coercion.

Okay, the big storm and the big fish were pretty coercive, I grant.  Perhaps some coercion is a good thing.  Anyone who has ever tried to get a three-year-old to go to bed might recognize that simply letting a child marinate in their own unhappiness might not be the best approach.  The same is true for adults, I suspect.

But the Book of Jonah does not end with the storm and the fish.  It ends with object lessons and questions from God.  Jonah does not answer.  Apparently, God is willing to leave Jonah (and readers of the book) the freedom to be unhappy.

That brings me to my second disagreement with Graybill’s excellent article.  She seems to me to be implying that it is okay to let people continue in their own unhappiness.  Yes, we are indeed free to be unhappy, and we need to give others the freedom to be unhappy.  But is this really the best use of our freedom?

It may well be the best use of freedom—in the short time.  However, as a long-term strategy it isn’t.  That is unhappiness isn’t a long-term strategy.

Now, I need to come clean.  I am reading Graybill’s reading of Jonah from my own autobiography.  I have struggled with depression for most of my life.  If I am alive today, it is because of support from my generally even-dispositioned wife, friends, and two specific insights.  One of the insights is from a book, and the other, from a friend.

Years ago, when I was struggling with profound unhappiness, I read a book entitled Happiness is a Choice.  The title made me even more deeply unhappy, if that was possible at the time.  And yet, I continued to read.  Eventually, the book began to make some sense to me.  I have found that this statement, “Happiness is a choice,” has become a mantra for me.  It has frequently headed me away from the brink of suicide.

A second deeply helpful insight was shared many years ago by a friend after a Bible study I had led.  Mike Young said, “I think that you have more joy than you know.”  That was said to me in about 1990.  I have lost touch with Mike, and I doubt that he ever knew what a profound influence that statement had on me.  The fact that I remember it some thirty years later is a powerful and non-coercive reminder to me that I don’t need to take my unhappiness with ultimate seriousness.  Seriously, yes!  Ultimately, no.


[1] Fiona C. Black and Jennifer L. Koosed, editors, Reading with Feeling: Affect Theory and the Bible, Semeia Studies 95 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2019).

[2] Ibid., 95-112.

“Lacking What I Have”

I bet I know what you’re thinking, if you paid attention to the title of this post.  I bet you think it was a misprint.  “Your title for this post is strange, Down-to-Earth-Believer!  Don’t you mean to say, ‘Lacking What I Don’t Have’?  I mean, if you have it (whatever “it” is), then you don’t lack it.  And if you lack it, you obviously don’t have it.  Explain yourself and your title!”

Okay, I will explain myself.  But it gets ugly in a hurry.

My meditation today is based on the “3-Minute Retreat” from Loyola Publishing.  You can access the meditation for free at https://www.loyolapress.com/retreats/what-do-you-lack-start-retreat/.  Here is the entire biblical story upon which the retreat is based:

“And as he was setting out on his journey, a man ran up and knelt before him and asked him, ‘Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?’ And Jesus said to him, ‘Why do you call me good? No one is good except God alone. You know the commandments: ‘Do not murder, Do not commit adultery, Do not steal, Do not bear false witness, Do not defraud, Honor your father and mother.’ And he said to him, ‘Teacher, all these I have kept from my youth.’ And Jesus, looking at him, loved him, and said to him, ‘You lack one thing: go, sell all that you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.’ Disheartened by the saying, he went away sorrowful, for he had great possessions. And Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, ‘How difficult it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!’ And the disciples were amazed at his words. But Jesus said to them again, ‘Children, how difficult it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God.’ And they were exceedingly astonished, and said to him, ‘Then who can be saved?’ Jesus looked at them and said, ‘With man it is impossible, but not with God. For all things are possible with God.’”

(Mark 10:17–31 The Holy Bible, English Standard Version

https://accordance.bible/link/read/ESVS#Mark_10:17-27)

Now, whenever I encounter this story, I encounter myself.  And I don’t like to encounter myself.  No, I don’t.  This story asks me a question that I don’t like, because I already know the answer.  The question is this: What do I have that is really a liability and a lack?  And I like the answer even less than I like the question.

As part of today’s “3-Minute Retreat,” the retreat master/writer made the following comments:

“Initially in this story, the rich young man affirms his devotion to following the Ten Commandments. Jesus shows his love for the rich young man by challenging him to not just follow the Commandments but to become a disciple, allowing his love of God to be more important than anything in the world. We, too, are meant to keep the Ten Commandments. We are also called to conversion, turning our whole lives over to God by following the teachings of Jesus Christ and by serving others.”

Notice the equation of “conversion” with “turning our whole lives over to God.”  This begins with an initial decision and prayer to God, but this “conversion,” this “turning our whole lives over to God” is an ongoing process.  I believe that you have to begin somewhere, but if you stay where you begin, you haven’t really begun.  You’re just stuck.

Notice that, in the story about the rich young ruler, what he lacked was not what he did not have.  No!  It was what he did have that revealed his lack.  A good question for me to ask when I feel that I lack something, is this: “What do I have that is causing my lack?”  And at that point, with God’s help, I need to give that up.  I need to give it up to God, and give it to others, whenever possible.

I heard or read somewhere a story about an unexpected windfall that needed to be given up.  I’ve probably scrambled some of the details, but here it is, as best I can remember it:

It was during the Great Depression (the twentieth century one, not the current one that we may be going into).  A poor couple with a young daughter or two received an unexpected check in the mail.  It wasn’t all that big, but it certainly seemed so to them.  The daughter could hear her parents arguing about how to spend the money.  She was worried.  She had never heard her parents argue like this before.  Then she heard two things.  First, she heard silence.  And then, there was hearty laughter.  She was sent out to buy a lot of ice cream.  When she returned, all her neighbors were crowded into her parents’ small house, and every bowl her mom had was sitting out.  They spent the entire check on ice cream for the community.  And her mom and dad were happy again.

I wonder what windfall you and I have that we could turn into an ice cream social?  Let’s not let what we have be our lack!

“Is God Allergic to You?”

Some of us may feel as if God is allergic to us. Yes, I often feel that way myself.

A friend of me did an online post in which he noted that his rescue cats, once their new master had earned their trust, would climb in his lap and purr contentedly.  My friend concluded with a challenge to his readers to trust our Heavenly Master who has rescued us, and to be contented with what God gives us.

Contentment doesn’t come easily for me.  Sometimes, it doesn’t come at all.  I needed to hear about my friend and his cats.  And, of course, I can never hear too much about God’s provisions.

One of the comments from a reader of my friend’s post was, “I’m allergic to cats.  I sure hope God isn’t allergic to me!”  My feline mind immediately jumped off the lap, and began to play with the notion of God being allergic to us.

There are some theologians who say that God is so holy that he can’t stand human sins, that God is, as it were, allergic to human wrongdoings.  Perhaps they are right.  I know that these thinkers are trying to safeguard the holiness of God, and also point out the deadly seriousness of sin.  Points well taken!

However, this doesn’t mean that God is allergic to either sin or to us.  According to the writer of the Gospel of John, Jesus was God who had come in the flesh.  According to the New Testament, Jesus was God crawling into small, nasty cages to rescue us.  Some of us bit him a lot in the process.  He knew that we didn’t know any better.

And, according to all the Gospel writers, Jesus seems to have hung around with sinners.  Good thing.  We all are sinners—especially those of us who are pretty sure we’re not especially sinful sinners.

So, if God isn’t allergic to us, and if he is a most trustworthy of Rescuers and Masters, we should probably crawl up on God’s lap and purr contentedly.  Don’t worry: It’s a big lap.  There’s plenty of room.

“Today House”

Matt. 6:34: “Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.”

A friend and accountability partner acknowledged that he was “. . . tired of being quarantined.”  Who of us is not tired of being quarantined, I wonder?  Honesty is a key component of accountability (and friendship), so it was good that he admitted what is real for him.  He is also determined to be grateful today.

After I read my friend’s post, my mind jumped immediately to an incredibly sad Adam-12 rerun I was watching yesterday on Me TV.  A petty criminal had gotten out of prison.  He was an old and broken man who just wanted “to go home.”  When a police officer asked him where home was for him, he said, “Prison.”  The police officer who had arrested him the last time the old guy went to prison tried to get the con into a halfway house that was called “Today House.”

One of the police officers who went to check out the halfway house asked the man who was in charge about the name of the place, “Today House”.  The man (who himself had been in prison) replied, “Oh, that comes from a common saying in prisons: “Don’t worry about tomorrow; just try to get through today.”

Good counsel!  I am doing pretty well with my own quarantine.  That is because I live in Today House.  I hope you are too.

DTEB, “Solitary Confinement?  Not Really!”

“I found solitary confinement the most forbidding aspect of prison life. There is no end and no beginning; there is only one’s mind, which can begin to play tricks. Was that a dream or did it really happen? One begins to question everything.”

Nelson Mandela (https://www.azquotes.com/quotes/topics/solitary-confinement.html, accessed April 16, 2020)

This isolation, this sheltering-in-place, this whatever-you-may-call it, is not really solitary confinement.  Hopefully, it is as close to that as many of us (hopefully) will get.  This isolation that we are going through is not solitary confinement, but it is still a serious problem.  It is, at the same time, a wonderful opportunity.

First, let me acknowledge what we all already know: What we are all going through is a problem.  In America, many of us like to pretend that we can get along very well without other people.  Men are especially prone to do this.  I’ve never been able to do it very well.  This was one of the things that caused me to question my masculinity.

The problem with this approach to life—and with our current way of living our lives—may be stated very simply: We are made to be with other people.  Johnny Cash said it very well in a song.  “Flesh and blood needs flesh and blood, and your love’s what I need.”

Now, you can understand this need in a variety of ways, several of which may be quite valid.  Evolutionary biologists might speak of our need for other people in order for us to survive.  Psychologists might speak similarly of “the herd instinct.”  The Bible tells us that God said, “It is not good for the man to be alone,” and so created the animals to keep the man company.  This did not quite fill the bill, so God created the woman.  Any way you understand it, we need other people.  Anyone who says otherwise is lying to himself and to you.

So, this isolation is a problem.  It goes against a very basic human need.  Even introverts, who value greatly their alone time, still need other people.

But this fellowship of isolation that we are going through right now is also an opportunity.  In fact, it is a whole bevy of opportunities.

  • Opportunity #1: We can get better acquainted with our neighbors.  I have had more conversations, and deeper conversations with my neighbors than I’ve ever had with them before.  Sometimes, six feet is more intimate than a hug.
  • Opportunity #2: We can figure out what really matters to us, and to those we love.  Though retired, I struggled to find time to do this until covid-19 came knocking at the door.
  • Opportunity #3:  We can learn how to be still.  I never outgrew the fidgety little boy I used to be.  What a wonderful remedial class in stillness this isolation provides!
  • Opportunity #4:  We can get better acquainted with our own deepest selves.  I find that I often use companionship and outward activities like a drug.  I am trying to avoid getting to know my weaknesses and my strengths.  Knowing my weaknesses would invite dependence on God and other people for help in working with them.  I don’t want that!  And if I know my strengths, I might have to actually do something to make use of them.

I’m sure you can think of other ways in which this isolation can be an opportunity.  Feel free to email me your thoughts or leave them as comments.

However, a final word, which is also a warning: You can, like me, probably think of a lot more ways in which this isolation is a problem.  That is as useless as it is easy.  However, problems are not “faced” simply by listing them and then marinating in them.  Doing something positive for yourself and others is the name of the game.

“Repetition and Boring Details during a Time of Crisis”

I finished yesterday listening my way through the book of Ezekiel.  It is very repetitious and boring.  But I’ve learned over the years that whenever I encounter something or someone that is boring, the problem lies within me.  I need to listen and look more carefully, think more creatively, love more purely.  So, I tried to apply some of these attitudes and actions to the Book of Ezekiel.

Ezekiel’s time was a violently, tragically dislocated time.  He was exiled from his homeland as part of the second of three waves of Judean exile to Babylon.  The waves became more devastating as they occurred.

When Ezekiel was already in Babylon, the folks from back home rebelled against their Babylonian overlords—again.  During the siege of Jerusalem, and even more when the siege was successful for the Babylonians, many people died in the land of Judah.  The devastation was especially prevalent in Jerusalem, the capital.  The economy had ground to a halt because of the quarantine that was enforced by the armies surrounding Jerusalem.  Some Judeans were killed by Babylonian soldiers.  Others died of plague and likely of malnutrition.  Finally, when all food and hope had been exhausted, the Babylonians breached the gates, and put much of the city to the sword and to the torch.  The king of Judah was deposed, his eyes were gouged out, and he was taken to Babylon in chains.  Many of the leaders of Judah were executed.  The temple was destroyed.  Only the poorest of the poor were allowed to stay in the land.

Meanwhile, Ezekiel (who was already in Babylon), was prophesying to his fellow captives.  He was fighting a battle on several fronts.  On the one hand, he was trying to help his fellow Judeans to not lose all hope.  On the other hand, he was fighting against the tendency toward the false hopes of many of his compatriots.  Many thought that their exile would be brief, and that they would soon be returning to their homeland.  “No!” said Ezekiel.  “You will not!”

Now, you might think that, in the midst of all this drama and trauma, the Book of Ezekiel would be very dramatic.  There are indeed racy bits.  But most of it is mind-numbingly repetitious.  Ezekiel was both a prophet and a priest.  The prophets could be rather theatrical about both God’s judgment and God’s grace.  Priests, however, tended to plod along.  Ezekiel often comes across as more of a priest than a prophet.  How could Ezekiel plod along with long, repetitious, boring descriptions of God’s judgment of Judah and equally long, repetitious, boring descriptions of God’s eventual restoration of Judah?

Yet, perhaps it is precisely during dramatic, traumatic times that we need some regularity, some repetition.  A lot of us who may have craved a change of pace two months ago would give anything to go back to our boring lives.

I think that it is safe to say that we are living in a time of drama and trauma right now.  What should we do at times like these, when everything seems to be—and maybe is—falling apart?  I don’t know what the particular contours of your life are like right now.  I am neither a prophet nor a priest.  Perhaps you need to be your own Ezekiel, with your own visions of regularity.  But I will tell you what some of my regular, (boring??) stuff is that helps me to stay more or less sane.

  • I am trying to go to bed by no later than 10:00 p.m., and no earlier than 9:58 p.m.
  • I am trying to wake up by no later than 6:00 a.m.
  • I do my regular gratitude list.
  • I report to my 12-step sponsors.
  • I do a daily affirmation.  (Today’s affirmation is as follows: Today, by God’s grace, I am spending my time on things that I think matter deeply to God, to me, and to others.)
  • I drink a couple of cups of fairly weak coffee.
  • I do several 12-step readings.
  • I journal.
  • I call and/or text several 12-step friends.
  • I read and/or listen to Scriptures.
  • I write a blog (sometimes).
  • I have breakfast with my sweetheart.
  • She and I pray for one another, and read a brief devotional.
  • I take the dog out to do her business—several time a day.
  • I am taking cooking lessons from one of the finest chefs I know, my wife.
  • I am listening to classical music on AccuRadio.
  • I am learning more about music, and how to understand and enjoy it.
  • I am learning Spanish via Duolingo.  (It’s a free download.)
  • I try to get some exercise and fresh air every day.
  • I am working through some books to review them for a scholarly magazine.
  • I am working on revising my Ph D dissertation, in order to publish it.

Sound boring to you?  Sometimes it does to me as well.  But especially during this time of pandemic, boring is a reassuringly stabilizing reality.

Long live Boring!

DTEB, “No Death; No Resurrection”

Here is part of my journal entry from yesterday:

Sunday, April 12, 2020: Easter!

It is rainy, but not ferociously cold this morning.  What was the weather like when Jesus rose from the dead?  I don’t suppose it mattered.  If death is not the final word, the weather doesn’t matter much, if at all.

Does death matter, if Christ triumphed over it for us all?

Yes, death does matter.  Because death mattered to God, he sent his Son to die for all of us walking dead people, us zombies (Ephesians 2:1-10).

Yet, we still will need to physically die.  And we go through many mini-deaths, in preparation for our big physical death.  I’ve gone through several mini-deaths just in the past year:

So, if Christ has truly been raised from the dead, if he defeated death for us all, then why is there so much death still in the world?  Do I really believe this stuff?  Is it true?

My “3-Minute Retreat” for this morning gives one helpful response to the questions I asked above.  It is based on John 20:9: “For they did not yet understand the scripture that he had to rise from the dead.”

The retreat commentary makes these observations:

“The disciples did not understand the necessity of Christ’s Resurrection. Do we? Would we, could we, live more fully in the Kingdom of God if we understood the necessity of embracing the cross in order to enter the new life of Resurrection? It is a question for each day of our lives. Understanding will only come through our ceaselessly seeking who and what we are to be in the risen Lord.”

And then, the retreat asks two crucial questions:

“Do you resist embracing what needs to die in your life in order to reach the Resurrection?

What do you believe about the Resurrection?”

Do I embrace the death of what needs to die in my life?  Or do I simply cling to it, refusing to let what needs to die?

And yes, there are many things that still need to die.  And the fact (and it is, unfortunately, a fact) that I am unwilling to allow the things to die that need to die, shows that I am not yet ready for an Easter resurrection. The fact that God has made great progress with me in overcoming my addiction does not obscure the need for dealing with a lot of other hang-ups and habits that need go.

Maybe by Easter of 2021, I’ll be more ready for resurrection.

“Of Birth and Death”

Yesterday was my birthday, and I had a wonderful celebration, thanks to my wife and many of my friends.  It was also the day when Christians “celebrate” Christ’s death on the cross.  There is a reason why I put “celebrate” in double quotation marks.  Is death ever a reason to celebrate?

Certainly, Roman crosses were not originally designed for celebration—or for being turned into jewelry.  Roman crosses were designed to inflict maximum pain over an agonizingly long period of time.  Death was by suffocation, once you were too weak to push yourself up to breathe.  It was a kind of pre-meditated, very targeted covid-19 that was intentionally transmitted to someone.

Imagine yourself saying to any of Jesus’ original disciples on the Friday that Jesus was crucified, “Hey, guys!  I’ve got a wonderful idea!  Why don’t we call this ‘Good Friday’!”  At best, they would have looked at you with total bewilderment.  At worst, you might have gotten a broken jaw.  In any case, I doubt that there would have been a single vote in favor of your proposal.

And yet, those of us who follow Christ, do call it Good Friday.  Why?  Let me suggest two reasons.

First, Jesus’ death by crucifixion was not the closing chapter of his story.  Generally speaking, the last chapter of a book—or the final main section of a Wikipedia article—speaks of the death of historical characters.  The four Gospels of the Old Testament all indicate that Jesus’ family and friends were certain that Jesus was gone.

However, in the case of Jesus, the story goes that he did not stay dead.  (Yes, I know!  That’s pretty difficult to swallow.  There are, however, many of us who actually believe it.)  In light of the fact that Jesus didn’t stay put in the tomb, in retrospect, his crucifixion day came to be known as “Good Friday.”

But there is a second reason why Good Friday was good.  The Gospels, the book of Acts, almost all of the letters, and the book of Revelation all indicate that Jesus’ death wasn’t primarily a tragedy or a miscarriage of justice.  Rather, Jesus’ death was redemptive.  He died in our place, for our wrong-doings.

If that is true, that is incredibly good.  It was way beyond incredibly good; it was the best!

And since I believe that Jesus died for my sins—and for all our sins—and since I believe that he was raised from the dead, I don’t mind having my birthday coincide with Good Friday every once in a while.  In point of fact, my birthday was so much nicer knowing that my sins are forgiven, and that isn’t the final word.

“The Price of Coasting”

When I was a kid, I enjoyed riding my bike.  Still do!

I grew up on a farm, so I had to ride my bike on dirty roads on parts of our farm, and gravel on our lane, and the township road that connected our land with the main paved highway.  Once I got out of our lane, there was a short, level ride to a   l  o  n  g   downward slope.  I could coast all the way to the wooden bridge.  Great fun!

However, on the other side of the bridge was a small (but steep) hill.  And then, there was the ride back home.  I discovered that there was a price to be paid by coasting.

Right now, it is easy for me to coast.  Wait a minute!  Who am I trying to fool?  It is always easy for me to coast.  Whether it is my addiction-recovery efforts, or exercising, or my writing career, or biblical scholarship, or being kind to my wife, or learning Spanish—it is easy (and fun) to coast.

However, as I discovered at age ten or so, there is only way that I can coast: downhill. Do you really want to go downhill?

So, what are you doing today to avoid coasting for too long?  Yes, I know; you can’t do all the stuff you normally do, due to the virus.  I can’t either.

Well, that’s not quite true.  The truth is that there are some good habits I established over the years.  I can keep many of those habits in place.

And there are new activities that I can explore.  Or, I can coast.  It’s my choice.

Yours too.

“The God of Hope”

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.” (Romans 15:13, English Standard Version)

The God of the Bible is supposed to be a God of hope.  Most of us who say that we believe the Bible is the written Word of God at least give lip service to this idea.

However, trying times reveal to each of us whether “the God of hope” is a real belief, or simply a pleasant notion.  And this is most definitely a trying time.

In a sense, hope looks forward.  Christianity is often criticized for being a backward-looking religion.  I suppose that, in a sense, this is true.  We do look back to creation and to redemption.  On the other hand, Christianity is often thought of as (and criticized for) being about “pie in the sky in the sweet by and by when you die.”  Sometimes we do indeed look back and forward too much—or at least wrongly.  Is hope just escapism?  I hope not!

But one of the things we need to do is to hope right here, right now.

I hear someone say, “Wait a minute!  Isn’t hope itself forward-looking at its core?  How can you say that hope is right here and right now?”

Hope does often look forward in time.  But primarily, hope looks upward.  Hope looks at the God who is bigger than our problems, no matter what those problems are.  Covid-19 is a serious business.  However, I believe that God is more serious still.

Then too, hope is a present-moment mindset and heart-set activity because hope takes place in the present.  Like Planning, Hope’s practical partner, Hope operates in the present.  Without hope, who would plan or do anything?  When I get out of bed in the morning, Hope and Faith help me to put my feet on the floor, telling me that the floor is still there.  Without at least a little present hope, no one would be able to do anything in the now, to try to make the future better.

So, my dear fellow-believers in Hope, it is time to put up or shut up.  If we have hope in God or science or anything else, it is time to base our actions on that hope.

Yesterday, I was thinking of a former co-worker of my wife who volunteered to go to New York to serve as a nurse.  And I thought, what can I do?  After all, I am elderly myself.  Aside from staying in and trying not to get infected (or infecting anyone else, if I already am infected), what do I have to offer this world?

The problem with asking yourself hard questions is that, sometimes, God or your better angels, or the universe answers you.  I immediately thought of several things I could do.

I can encourage, right now, everyone with whom I come into respectfully distanced contact.  My neighbors, my 12-step friends, non-addict friends, Facebook friends—the list is a lot longer than I initially thought.  A good friend texted me today, telling me how special I am to him.  I feel the same way toward him.  Hoping that I can make a difference by expressing appreciation for people is a very present help right now, both for those I appreciate and for the appreciator who is me.

I can help a few people financially.  My wife and I are far from wealthy, but we do have a bit of money still coming in.  And then there are the government relief checks.  We have what we need.  Our house and cars are paid for.  Why not give away some (if not all) of this extra money?  Why not indeed!  Hope—when it is real—leads to hopeful and helpful actions.

And then there is this website.  Why not encourage readers with it?  Why not put in writing some funny stories, some hopeful stories, some uplifting thoughts?  Why not indeed!

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