Shortly before I left for my most recent wilderness sojourn, we helped one of our neighbors celebrate her ninetieth birthday.  It was quite a moment.  After all, not all of us will see that milestone.  My wife and I hosted a dinner in her honor, a dinner of remembrance, reflection, and rejoicing.  Even at 90, Vera remains sharp, physically as well as mentally.  She still mows her own lawn, does her own yard work, can tell you all about the doings of her beloved Chicago Cubs.  Not much escapes her.
     Of course, Vera does not have as much energy as she had twenty five years ago, when we met her, but her spirit is indomitable.  And in a world which, she and we both believe, is but a thin skein between the material and supernatural, it is the spirit, it seems, that is key to who we most are.  Now there is spirit, and there is Spirit.  If not for the latter, the former would not be; and if not for the former, the latter would be no more than a wisp of wind.

     I am thankful for Vera, I am thankful for the fact of existence.  And I am thankful for the meaningfulness of spirit.  Yet I am even more thankful for the Spirit, the God, from which all spirit comes.  We would indeed be nothing; we would not even be Sartre's description of humanity as a "useless passion," without it.
     Do we really wish to be nothing?
     Happy birthday, Vera!