Monday, February 17th

Happy Monday, Front Porchers. Last week was a good week for us; on Thursday, Sam Baker, his band, and more than a hundred of our closest friends joined us for Actually Unplugged, and then Ray Benson preached at Parable on Sunday. But the action isn’t slowing down; the Southwest Showdown begins at 11:00 this Saturday. Come out to the Seminary of the Southwest’s annual family-friendly barbeque cook-off. Proceeds go Episcopal Relief and Development, and the inordinately talented Tessy Lou and the Shotgun Stars will accompany the Texas barbeque with Texas country music.

As the two or three of you who regularly read my posts know, I usually take this space to write about some notable figure or event linked to the day’s date. Today, as I scanned my top-secret historical calendar, I found some good stuff: in 1600, philosopher Giordano Bruno was executed; in 1819, the Missouri Compromise passed; in 1863, the Red Cross was founded; in 1929, Chaim Potok¬†was born. But what about the billions of lives that don’t find their way into the annals of Wikipedia? We don’t read about, or even really think about, their experiences, their accomplishments, their fears and desires, but they existed, from the first sentient hominid to the aged farmer in third century BC Chile to the child just born into poverty in Mumbai. They are sparrows, just as we are, and their lives are as immediate to them as ours are to us, and every bit as important and dear. Once those lives are gone, those accomplishments and experiences stay with us, invisible and inaccessible but present nonetheless. That’s as good a reason as any to be kind, to pour out our souls, to give recklessly and fully, to love as hard and as much as we possibly can; we can leave something behind, an undetectable legacy of goodness that is better than an article in an online database.

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