All those trips to Iceland, and I can barely speak the language. I am not proud of that. The one word I do know and use is “takk” which means “thank you.” Not a poor word to know.
So. Takk for puffins—those birds that are a testimony to God’s creativity. And Takk! that my best friend and I were able to drive the long, bumpy road, to a cliff overlooking the ocean, and not be blown into the sea by the high wind, where I got to see the one puffin that came close enough to pose for us who couldn’t do the hike to the top of the cliff to see the whole flock.
Takk! for insurance and savings and friends who help and encourage when storms hit Houston, once again.
Takk for welcoming worship on a Sunday morning—with music and sermon and greetings that help me to be the Church outside the church window in my week ahead.
Takk for schools that invest in the arts, and for teachers who give so much of themselves to inspire a generation of youth, who learn to create and collaborate with others through music.
Takk that I have the time and financial resources and the welcome on arrival to travel the many miles to hear my grandson play his alto saxophone.
Takk for travel and home.
Takk for Iceland and Houston and Oregon—and a God who would create such unique places for the joy and delight of it.
Takk for people who love me and for the people I love.
In this Ordinary Time, a season of Takk.
House of Grace 