Celebrate: (v) to acknowledge a significant or happy day or event with a social gathering
The reason needs to be larger than the plan.
I have often attended celebrations where the actual organization of the event overshadowed the purpose for us gathering.
I sometimes feel that way when I go to church. We forget that the real significance of clumping is to strengthen one another, build up our
confidence and share a common testimony of faith. Yet by the time we get done with candles, musicians, sound systems, bulletins, announcements and special music, the beauty of the conclave seems to get swallowed up.
What is it I’m celebrating?
I would agree with Kool and the Gang that I can celebrate good times.
Celebrate another day of living.
I love to celebrate that evil viciously appears to be dominant until it’s suddenly snuffed by its own greed.
I like to celebrate that something can be non-existent and because I’m alive, the creativity I’ve been granted can make freshness appear.
What are we celebrating?
Some of the holidays that hang around baffle me. I’m certainly grateful for the Armed Forces, but how many times are we going to salute them every year? And does every celebration in America have to be accompanied with a protracted exercise in gluttony?
I celebrate that even as I write this, all across the world there are people I will never know who read it–and out of their English grammar propriety, feel completely licensed to rip it apart.
What a wonderful world.
That’s what we can celebrate–with all its madness, diversity and pending doom and gloom, life still manages to give us a daily clean canvas, available for beautiful painting.