Saturday, April 13th, 1996
					(573) 446-8385
					
Dear God,

    Just finished an amazing and wonderful breakfast with my friends
Jon Speak, Cheryl Hill, and a new friend, Raven.  Raven, who has the
ability to be who she is, very individual, outspoken, but with a lot
of love.  Cheryl, who has the ability to be who she is, but not very
often working as clergy, as she seems to have to watch her step with
most things she does to avoid gossip, unseemliness, or other things.
Jon, who has the ability to be who he is, a very loving, caring, gen-
tle human being who seems to look for and find ways of being nurtur-
ing in most every situation I've ever seen him in.  David, who is
still looking to be who he is ... which can be a doormat at times,
but is looking for other things to be than that.
    Vulnerability.
    
    This could be another "who am I?" kind of note to you, God, but
I'm afraid I don't have time today to pursue these kinds of musings.
	--	--	--	--	--	--	--	--
"Blessed are those who can laugh at themselves, for they shall never
cease being amused."
    Raven and Jon can laugh at themselves, loving themselves and who
they are, not exactly knowing where they are going, but not caring
so much for things partly out of their control.  I think Cheryl and
I have more trouble laughing at our selves, because we can end up
viewing ourselves or our roles or our (?) ... so seriously.  We want
so very much to do well and be good at what we do that we take it so
seriously sometimes, I think, that what we do overwhelms us.

    When things don't go exactly as we had envisioned or feel they
ought to go, because we take so seriously our own designs as being
the right designs (even perhaps being regardless of other people's
feelings or designs), we will feel denied.  We will feel that we
have given up something, and perhaps envious of the way something
went (or of the person whose way it seemed to go) when we had so
much riding on its going a certain way we had envisioned.  We will
have given up control, given up power....

    An essence of control-freakishness surrounds much that we do,
even if we do not admit it to ourselves or recognize all the times
that it is operative in our lives.  We have a lot of control over
our environments:  the ambient temperatures in our homes, the kind of
neighbors we have, the amount of love we receive from others by the
amount and quality of love we give them.  We even have control over
who the others even *are* in our lives, by who we choose to invest
work in to get to know and by who we choose to avoid.  We avoid pain
like there is no tomorrow, fearing it, and even fearing the fear of
pain.  But there are some who have less interest in doing the
control thing.  These, I feel, are the true livers -- lovers of life
who know how to let go of seriousness, step back, and laugh at the
incredulity of the situations they have been dealt, by God, fate, or
some other agent.  To laugh even at their own reactions to things,
letting them go, letting God laugh with them, forgive themselves
and the other players in the tragicomedy, and go on.

    So even though I don't have time, God, here it is anyway.  As
you knew I would pontificate as I am wont to do when in the mood to
write.  Pontification #41 in a series of "Dear God" letters to you
and whoever reads this shit posthumously.  "Blessed are those who
can laugh at themselves, for they shall never cease being amused."

				Your impish servant,
				David