More Than an Idea

The Man in Red I was in fourth grade when someone broke the news to me. We were at lunch. The girl sitting in front of me was drinking from an "Aqua Pod," one of those wonky grenade shaped water-bottles. Rumor had it that she didn't believe in Santa Claus anymore. Scandalous. I thought she was crazy! Some bumptious skeptic trying to draw attention to herself. But her doubt was enough to plant the seeds of doubt in me. I couldn't help but wonder: is this all too good to be true? A jolly man dressed in red flying around the world with reindeer, eating buckets full of cookies, giving coal to bad little girls and boys. Say it ain't so... I use to love the mystery that surrounded Santa Claus. But my faith in Santa Claus quickly moved from doubting his presence, to utterly denying his existence. He isn't real. The chimney-man had been snuffed.  In hindsight, there's something quite troubling about the "Santa-myth." The capacity for faith and beli...

This is something I constantly struggle with. It’s so easy to lose sight of what we have and who we are in the constant thrust of day-to-day life. I get launched into my routine, I get side-tracked by text messages, I find myself floating from conversation to conversation, sentence to sentence in (sometimes) mind-numbing reading assignments. At no point do I stop to take stock of who I am, where I am, what I have, and where it all comes from. Giving thanks doesn’t require much. If anything, it necessitates perspective. Where does this abundance—all that I have, from breath to bread—where does it come from? In order to give thanks, I have to remind myself that these things that bless my life—be it family, friends, food, fleeces in frigid weather—none of these things come from me. I did not pick my family; I did not accept my friends into Duke; I did not prepare the chicken tikka masala at Tandoor; nor did I make this Randolph quarter zip that I definitely over wear. Where did t...