My Favorite Decade?

If you're going to rejoice no matter what, you're likely yielding to the Spirit. Such joy can only come as a fruit of the Spirit. Such joy prioritizes the goodness of God overall despite the valleys of life. If you are praying 24-7, above and beyond the mechanics of it, sincerely and actually conversing with God, the Spirit must be in the mix. Such prayer prioritizes the realness of God. As to having gratitude within life's pinch and pleasure, throughout its range, the good, the bad, and the ugly, it takes the Spirit of grace. Such as these attributes characterize the true Christian with the neighboring imperative to these being, as written, "Quench not the Spirit." So says 'the Good Book'. So says God. Of course, the true Christian can have a season of spiritual drought...just remember His faithfulness and hold on.

Now about Thanksgiving:
I don't know if the 1950s were my favorite decade or not, because the thoughts and feelings I had in the 1950s were primitive due to my challenging entry into the ex-utero world in August. I imagine things turned favorably quickly, because I was wanted, and mama and dada demonstrated gratitude a lot. I'm betting the Thanksgiving of 1955 was very special, and my instruction in gratitude was big, even though I had to skip the turkey. Thanksgiving is not only good for the soul, but also instructive...even contagious.

In the 1960s my little society enlarged, and I entered it with small words and basic sentences, able to handle my bodily functions. Yea! I discovered others, next door, in the block, and in 'the church'. I made friends and met family beyond home. Some of my best friends, some whom I still see, I met in that quaint Germanic institution called 'Kindergarten' and encountered group play, songs, naps, applesauce, a tricycle, and a really nice person called a teacher. We sang 'My Country Tis of Thee' and said 'The Pledge of Allegiance'. Sooo thankful, even as the 1960s changed I changed too and fairly rapidly. I found that boys could be buddies, and girls were pleasantly different in their evolution. The Orioles were our heroes. I was baptized in the 1960s, and thankful when church let out on Sunday afternoons. God, I'm sure, was there because He was the center of all conversation for those Sunday hours. The fellow called a pastor talked most, and from the pulpit talked oddly. I would get shushed when asking what’s wrong with him. I concluded that the closer to God you got, the funnier you talked. Mom discovered I would keep quiet if given a hard candy. I remember peppermint well. It made those hard pews bearable. Still thankful.

In the 1960s, beyond Sundays, God was appreciated as meals were preceded by 'grace', and sleep was preceded with bedtime prayer... 'Now I lay me down to sleep...'. 'The Lord’s Prayer' was learned in this decade. Television was adored and commanded the living room. The first kiss [other than mom's] was in this decade also. It was a curious and unexpected thing. Luther was my best friend and we specialized in throwing stones, climbing fences, and splashing in puddles...until called inside. Other than chores, my first job was serving newspapers. I liked Marvel [comics] and Motown [records] a lot. Luther's mom sparked my interest in reading as she enjoyed the James Bond novels, which I would read. Eventually I read nearly all of them and appreciated the many new words. We didn't talk that. This was the decade of my first taste [of liquor], and my first smoke. Disliked both. In the 1960s my Dad, a Baltimore city cop,  loomed larger than life. Unlike my peers I knew what a baton, handcuffs, and a pistol looked like. He seemed very serious when coming home from work, and for those initial hours, home was as quiet as a library. In everything give thanks!

The 1970s was jammed with milestones: Junior HS, Senior HS, learner's permit, baritone voice and facial hair, 'negroes' becoming 'blacks', boy scouts, choir, professing Christ [a few times], Lincoln University campus life, aging parents, 'R' rated flicks, various jobs, new friends, dating, Kenpo, college graduation, receding hairline, work, whew... what a decade! Not every moment was a treasure, but all had worth. While experiencing Meharry Medical College, God introduced me to Debora while visiting Memphis Tennessee. One look was all it took... and the southern accent was precious. That was Spring of '79. I didn't have an accent, because all Baltmoreans spoke standard 'American'. I joke.  In everything give thanks!

Each decade was a preparation for the next, and the 1980s were just as phenomenal, if not more so: courtship and marriage, life in Flint Michigan, internship, moving, drinking coffee, new friends, distance from home, suturing flesh and delivering babies, professing Christ some more, AIDS crisis, pronouncing the deceased, private tears, new church experience, home ownership, Parkwest Medical Center, birth of sons, first prostate check [ugh!], parenting, leading CPR, graying hairs and changing blood pressure... a decade of preparation and adaptation. In everything give thanks!

I suppose all of the decades were favored in their own way, as preparation and adaptation met with gratitude: In everything give thanks. There were times when rejoicing wasn't so easy, and praying drifted, becoming mechanical, if not absent. There were seasons when my Bible got dusty... but God never let me go. And I'm grateful. By His mercies, the story is still unfolding, and the uttermost ending of it, is a new and glorious dawn upon the love of Christ Jesus. Amen. In everything give thanks! Meanwhile, now would ya please pass the gravy?

PRAYER: Lord, I thank You, for salvation, the ‘all’ that precedes, supports and follows all else, and for amazing grace. Bless You Jesus. Amen.
By Dea. McNeal Brockington