Eric’s Sunday Sermon; “Party With a Purpose”

That is my eldest son’s motto or slogan. Brooks Dierker is a performing artist of extreme talent to rally. One would think that at his concerts he goes straight at it and rallies people. And of course he does that. But what he rallies in ultimate essence is the love. Like a swirling dervish he whips up a frenzy of people loving people.

Now I do not say this out of pride (although there is too much of that ;-) I say it out of experience. I say it out of about 2,500 hugs yesterday. Maybe an exaggeration. In a small tavern venue yesterday I stood back and saw people not shaking hands in greeting but hugging in greeting. Of course this was a special gathering but all the same. It was to honor Veterans at an American Legion outpost.

And to be true my silent reverie lasted only a minute or so until I was being hugged. What? An honorary daughter through my ex-wife who is really an ex niece in law’s husband. How many times removed is that? Or is it so far off it could not even be removed. Well Craig did not give me a “man” hug. We really hugged and then held each other’s shoulders and looked into each other’s eyes. Hell’s bells and cocker shell’s we both were radiating love and told each other how great we looked. And not as a platitude. We looked great dressed in all our love.

I leaned back against the bar and looked around to see who was conservative and who was liberal. It made my head spin. These peoples want to conserve. And these people want to liberate. These people go for micro plastic walks on the beach and hug trees and yet the venue was an American Legion outpost.

One girl friend from Mexico, another in from the East Coast and a couple from up our coast 400 miles away. “Girl Friends”? you query. Yes these fine ladies were on teams I coached (always assistant as a next day may have me flying to Melbourne) They were my daughter’s BFFs and I had the privilege to call them my girls. Not one or two but way over a dozen. That one is not an exaggeration.

Who could bring these people together to just plain have a party with a purpose. Well it would seem that man over there can bring it all together. Did I tell you that Brook’s presided over a few of the marriage ceremonies for folks in the hall? Some kind of revered preacher.

So we may ask “where do we go from here?”. A lovefest as above is an intoxicant. Do you get a hangover the next day? Do you have a big letdown and melancholy. Nope to all of that. Believe me I have played the drinking and whatnot card to it’s fullest. Woken up in places I did not know how I got to. Not just a dusty road but sludge with wind blasting sand and snow in your eyes. Hurricanes of craziness.

But the morning after a lovefest you just wake up and your heart beats a little harder. It is so filled with love it needs a little umph to keep pushing it through your veins and you need a release valve. My home is still asleep so I dump it on you. This is the Sunday Sermon and what it is about. A sincere seepage from my love to yours.

No one ever asked me if I wanted to be filled to the brim with love. And I for sure never asked for it. Perhaps I would rather be a rag tag rapscallion of mischief like my life that got me here. That ride sure was more fun. But not more joy filled. A good brother of mine told me a decade ago that I had used up my fun tickets and that the wild rides were over. He died shortly thereafter but his words and love did not.

So once again at bedtime we went through our day as my youngest and I do. He declared it another best Saturday ever. This we laugh at but agree that every day we learn to love all things more and more better. And we just kind of pause. How full can it get? How much can we give? How much can we receive?

So this morning in that special dawn time, me and my wild birds out back contemplated. We wondered why we trust each other so. Instead of fluttering away from me they walk toward me and my cup o’ joe. Can a wild dove smell both coffee and love? (you see that is why I get up early. Act and think like that around humans and they will commit you) It is told that we have 5 senses and sometimes 7 senses. Yet some real important folks sometimes say we have about 18 senses. The birds and I sense each other. Do not know and do not care what sense that is. Although it is fun to think about. If that makes sense.

Around here they call me an isolationist. I get calls from buddies saying “this is a Health and Institutions checkup – How the hell are you Dierker”. Of course I love to get the calls and we laugh. “Dierker, join the world”. I tell them that I assume that they mean their world and we laugh some more. And then we cut to the chase and they pick my brain about the latest SCOTUS Ruling on seizures and forfeitures or emotional distress caused by discrimination in the work place. I suppose socializing more than with just my children and wife would be a good idea. I will look into it next year.

Now I give the above as a note for a real reason. I simply do not spread the love enough. Yes our online congregation here is in the hundreds per week. Probably more than most churches or temples or what have you. I had a blast at the store yesterday spreading the love. It is quite rare that people don’t like you passing on some love. And I truly believe those who do not like it go home and later feel it. Love is sometimes like one of those obnoxious jingles that stick in your head all day long.

I just did some weeding. I do not clear out all the weeds. I leave some because it seems my bug pests like the weeds more than my plants so it is a win win leaving some. Maybe sometimes my love just gets caught up in the weeds. But hey weeds may need more loving than my cultivated plants. Hey our veggies are having a banner year. They hardly need my attention at all, romaine lettuce and tomatoes 2 minutes from garden to table. OK maybe we do give them some extra love.

Maybe the last paragraph was a parable of some sort. Like maybe the Prodigal Son.

Let us just take a breather. Chill out and maybe take some time to look at our hands. Seriously do it. Check them out. They are your life story. Mine are all busted up and starting to get what they call arthritis. Good for them. I call them “me”. Duh, there is some pain. I have decided that in my hands of life I have caused some pain and in my hands I feel it, probably a good thing in the end.

All of that is above my pay grade. I walk into the world office every day and get my assignment. So boring it is always the same “go out and love”. Oh well.