My friend Richard will say to me sometimes that it is good to get out and do some physical labor. He is right. Contrary to my current physical condition, I was taught to be a physical worker. My dad made sure that I could use a shovel, broom, and wheelbarrow with the best of them. Saturday morning I was cleaning out my cars. As I work, my mind will meditate on a variety of things. My dad used to do this also. As a kid, my dad would not speak or listen to music when he worked. I thought that he was ignoring everyone and thinking very little but now I know that my dad was communing with Jesus. He was always a hulk of a worker, throwing every piece of energy into the task in front of him. I think his best prayer time came when he was physically engaged and his mind can fly over the things of life to soar into a private conversation with his Savior. Like father like son, I will engage in physical labor with intense concentration. My mind is somewhere else. Saturday morning, I was vacumming the cars and sweating profusely when I spontaneously began thanking Jesus for things in my life. My wife was on the top of the list but the trance deepened and meditatively, I silently thanked the Lord for my kids, my mom and dad, my firm, my house, my friends, my friends kids, my family, my problems, my dreams, my trials, and so on. A memory of traveling to Guatemala with my dad was brought forth to the desk of my mind and then a series of memories tucked in manila folders labeled high school football was set on the same desk.  Another file came forward labeled trip my college roommate and I took to see the Allman Brothers in Richmond. Randomly, I remembered the numerous Hardee’s biscuits Richard and I would get on the way to cut yards when I was in college. The list went on on. I stopped because I started to get emotional. A single word dominated my thoughts - blessed. Just as randomly my mind started listing the sins and wrongs I committed during the week. That list was almost as long as the other one.  After about 10 minutes, I became emotional again and the word that came to mind was unworthy. When I am at my office, my mind does not soar into lists of thanksgiving or confession because I am using it. Saturday morning, I prayed that the Lord would accept my thanksgivings and remove my wrongs. As the sun blazed above me and the music mixed with the dog barking and the neighbor’s lawnmower sputtering, I said out loud, Thank you. That is the biggest sentence I could get out under the emotional weight of the blessings which I take for granted. Just as quickly as my mind was floating in space, I returned Windexing the passenger window trying to remove some mysterious sticky substance in the form of a hand print of one of my daughters.  I think it was Evan’s. AH