What good is a dull pencil anyway? It’s like a dull mind. Half there, and half not. But I really must have a sharp point. And I can’t do the sharpening the old fashioned way, whittling away at it with a pocketknife. I’d probably cut my thumb open. Then what? No writing at all? Those $1.99 plastic grammar school mini-sharpeners from Walgreen’s that can’t even hone a broken crayon won’t work either. No, I need a precision point, one crafted by the fancy electric pencil sharpener at the office. I even like the aroma of wood being chewed away as the lead point is perfectly polished down to a pin prick. Sometimes I just admire it for a moment, my freshly sharpened pencil, now ready for action on the page. Ironically, the point usually breaks off with its first impression onto paper.

It doesn’t bother me at all to underline phrases and sentences in a book, even in my Bible. Some witty or creative expression that may need my attention quickly at a later date. Recently, I have identified poems I especially favor in a collection of Good Poems, American Places, selected by A Prairie Home Companion’s Garrison Keillor, with a crude “x” next to the title. I must confess, however, that most of the marks have been rendered with –– yes, a rather dull pencil. It was the only one I could find, hiding all alone there among the rubber bands and paper clips and ballpoint pens that must’ve multiplied over time in the darkness of that kitchen junk drawer. Lesson learned. Apparently sometimes it’s okay to work with a dull pencil, or even a dull mind. Just get the job done.

On this holiday which could be preoccupied with football, turkey ‘n dressing and pumpkin pie, can we pause before overindulging to remember the sacrifices of so many who planted and cultivated the America we enjoy today? A salute of gratitude and solemn respect is owed to the common man patriots risking all to frame our uncommon government. To the pioneers who stretched the boundaries of an already bountiful nation even more westerly. To both slave and free man, wounded and struck down in a shameful war over opposing social and economic views of a fellow human being’s civil rights. Yes and even to the captains of industry and the barons of business reveling in profits and growth that only a capitalistic society can yield. To the dauntless inventor, the devoted teacher, the curious explorer –– all dedicated to making the road better for all of us more timid souls on our journey into an uncertain future. To every brave man and woman who gave the last full measure of courage from Yorktown to Kabul, and on all the blood stained seas and soil in between. But mostly, thanksgiving is due to the gracious God in Whom we trust, even as that reverent and crucial sentiment fades away into unpopularity each day. It’s time to repent from the apathy of ingratitude and to arise from the sleep of self-centered comfort before what we hold dear is snatched away and we find this nation too soon added to the list of empires crumbling into the annals of archaeology.