"God is in the details"

"God is in the details." ___Mies van der Rohe


This is one of those days.

Nothing but gratitude. I'm thinking about all the little things, those parts of life that can be a royal nuisance and irritating and downright disgusting. I feel very lucky.

The drive between my home and the Tattered Cover Bookstore where I sometimes sit with writer friends and talk (or write, but mostly talk) is spectacular. Long's Peak. Snow-covered Mount Evans. The snowy Indian Peaks. The streets are wide, well cared for, with lovely lawn banking the whole long curve through the Ranch.

Absolutely amazing friends. Patient, wise, kind, generous, healthy, inspiring, funny. What else? What more could one say?

Now, to clarify why this exercise seems important to me, consider this. I could have an ugly view, even in Denver, but we are lucky to be up high and enjoy the best. The Tattered Cover is an indie bookstore; who knows how long we can keep it afloat. Then what, we write at Denny's? Or Starbucks?

And friends. Wow. I am the whistle-blower persona non grata in my local professional community. One, count her, one pastor has the nerve to keep in touch with me. The rest, dozens, including several who were 'friends' up until they had to choose between standing with me or falling over when the bishop farted, feel the radioactivity still and not one of them, that would be zero, has made any overture of support or friendship in eight years. But I don't miss them. Honest. Why would I.

A wonderful community of writing friends has grown up around my ears and is the healthiest, sanest, kindest, most generous group of people I've ever been part of. Not perfect, but damn damn good. Not a practicing Christian in the bunch, save one. Interesting. For an introvert who has a penchant to need to hibernate, I feel very blessed by this remarkable abundance.

And bless its heart, the Social Networking community, old friends, long ago friends, shirt-tail friends, shirt-tail relatives, far-away friends, wise professors, people I've just 'met' and people who are friends of friends whom I'm friends with now because we got interested in what one another had to say. If not for Facebook, I would still be an isolated freak. And a blog. And the conversations and comments it generates. And even the folks who follow me, and whom I follow on Twitter. I haven't quite figured out what to do with that yet but it's a connection.

Then, we move on. It occurred to me the other day, that fifteen years ago I didn't even have a doctor. When I had to fill out that blank on a work emergency card I had no name to write down. I didn't need one. Ha! That was before Littleton. But this is the very cool cool thing:

I have exactly the right doctors for me. You have no idea how much I respect and enjoy my primary care physician. She's had a heck of a job and she has done it amazingly well. And then there is the phlebotomist. I get to speak Russian (what's left) with the woman who draws my blood because she is from Tadzikistan. Bonus!

And the dentist: I love going to the dentist. First, I've already mentioned the nitrous oxide, even for cleanings. And they are the best people, competent, kind, professional, and look for ways to help save me money. My therapists are the best. And now I get to drive up my very favorite road in all of the Denver area to her house. And she gets Simple Life magazine. I mean, how good is that.

The library is gorgeous and in a lovely location. The grocery store is even really nice. My friend gave me a whole bag of my favorite Danish cheese last week, Danish cheese!

I could go on and on. Perhaps I will. No, I feel so grateful. All of the daily errands, routines, caregivers, neighbors, the barrista's, the booksellers, the check-out woman at Target and the pflebotomist! It could all be a grind, unpleasant, stressful. And none of it is.

Details. Just the details. And all filled with grace. Either this is karma, payback for the hell I went through, luck, providence, or the grace of engaging people and places who make life sing. I'll take it.

And not for granted.

Posted by Jan Erickson at 4:55 PM