My sons, men who get up and go to work everyday and are trying to lead honest good lives and who text me for cash on occasion even when they have their own. I love you. You are incapable with anything you do or don’t do of dislodging or upsetting that love. Thank you for the ways you keep in contact with me, far more than I ever did with my dad.
My very quirky brother and sister and Marianne in Germany. We are all on different continents but we might as well live in the same house with shared day-to-day details. Your knowledge of my frailties and my fallibilities is comforting especially when I live at times as if I have none.
Our parents, Mavis Iona and Ernest William Greer. Hard workers, both. Generous, both. Nephews and nieces and great nephews and great nieces spread around the world – you are loved.
The fabulous congregation of whom I am the commissioned ruling elder. You used to surprise me with your generosity and kindness expressed to the world around you but I am no longer surprised. This is my fifth year with you and you have trained me to expect your counter-cultural responses to a world in need.
The men and women whom I know who know how to manage and handle their great wealth and use it as a means to ends that have nothing to do with pride or power. I delight in observing your grace. I mourn for those, several of whom I also know, who parade their wealth and use it as a club.
My friends, new friends, old friends, and former friends. Thank you. I am learning. I am trying to learn. I respect you all, every one of you, as my teachers and I am trying to get the best out of the toughest lessons.
My rich history of travel and teaching in upwards of 50 countries. None of it deserved, all of it, every bit of it, a gift from the Open Hands of God’s Grace.
The two women who made me dad. You did not have to make me a dad and yet you found me. You found me when I was not looking for you and I am grateful, very grateful. Your sons have done you proud and I hope I have lived up to my promises to you. Contact me. You are welcome in our lives.
The two men who fathered my sons. We don’t know each other and probably never will. But, I do know this: there are beautiful aspects to each of your sons’ natures and characters and strengths that could only have come, at least partially, from you. Rejoice and be glad along with the loss and deprivation you must surely have known and still know. Contact me. You are welcome in our lives.
The men and women who taught me at Northlands Primary and at Northlands High School – and the handful of music teachers I had along the way. Thank you, thank you very much.
Readers, men and women across the world, who’ve accessed and used my newspaper columns. You give me purpose and hope and I thank you.
Those who tried hard to teach me to count.
Happy Thanksgiving Everyone.
Now it is time to roast some potatoes.
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