A Good Thing

It is a good thing to give thanks to the LORD
and to sing praises to your name, O Most High;
To tell of your loving-kindness early in the morning...
Psalm 92.1-2

It's early. I've got some loving-kindness. So, being all psalmicky and such, I might as well tell of it.

I signed a book contract yesterday. Yep, I really did. My agent, JK, called and said it's ready to sign. I grabbed for my Montblanc fountain pen and then remembered I don't have such a thing, so I borrowed the assistant's blue Bic clicker, and I signed the solid line.

I had wondered what that moment would be like. Would Glen Campbell step out of the shadows and start singing Wichita Lineman? Would the earth cough up little hobbits who would come close and dither about my knees? Would the sky suddenly turn dusk and stay that way all day, making it the best day ever?

None of those things happened. I know, hard to believe. No, I signed the three copies of the contract, stood and shook JK's hand, stepped back out into the bright sunlight of a Colorado noon, and got in my '97 Dodge and drove back to work.

And the Wichita lineman, is still on the line.

The book? Oh, yes. Sorry. I wrote through Advent last year, some reflections on the readings in Luke's gospel. That's what it's gonna be; a Christmas book, small, filled with a few sketches by a good friend. Maybe, just maybe, it'll be something to help folks walk a little saner through the moments leading up the big day. I reread them not long ago and I'm proud of them, I really am.

Right now, things are set for a September '09 release, just in time for you to purchase multiple copies both for yourself and those you call friends. We've still got to decide on a front cover and someone all spanky to endorse it, maybe Glen Campbell. We'll have a little party here at The Shame when it releases; you know, Ritz crackers, summer sausage, fancy coffee, maybe even some Blue Bell ice cream. I'll let you know. Dress is always casual, so don't fret about getting stuff pressed.

This book deal is a loving-kindness from His infinitely tender hand and I'm grateful. Actually, I'm humbled. A fella by the name of Pierce Pettis wrote a song entitled God Believes in You:
When you start to doubt that you exist, God believes in you.
Confounded by the evidence, God believes in you.
When your light burns so dim, when your chances seem so slim
And you swear you don't believe in him, God believes in you.

If you ever get the chance to see Pierce perform, carpe chancem. If you come away disappointed, I'll reimburse you for the ticket.

No, all this is humbling because it points to the presence of something that oftentimes lurks in the shadows: the thought that God believes in me. Some folks may think that bassackwards theology, but I don't. That thought makes me more grateful and these days, that's where I'm puttin' my money. If who or what you're holding to isn't making you a more grateful person with each passing day, then I say you've got a hole in your bucket, dear Liza, a hole.

Thanks for taking a few seconds to rejoice alongside him who rejoiceth. But, now it's up and back off down the main road, looking for another overload, a little bit surer I can hear Him singing in the wire, thru the whine -

And the Wichita lineman, is still on the line.