A few years ago, I walked in the door of our home after a long day of working with people. I was a pastor, and I yelled as I walked in “I don’t care anymore!” My daughter Abigail, then age 7, came around the corner. “Yes, you do Daddy. You care.” 10 minustes later, she handed me a small, round piece of cardboard. “I made this for you, Daddy. It’s a Care Coin.” Etched into the round piece of cardboard with a dull pencil were the words “I care.” It’s ragged and torn now, but it’s still with me in my wallet. She’s 13 now, and I’m wisened by her increasingly caring nature.

My cares have become increasingly focused, like the sun through a looking glass, over the last 15 years. Though I run, I can’t hide. I care deeply about certain things, and others I am indifferent toward. I care deeply about God, I care deeply about people, I care deeply about culture, I care deeply about the origins of man and his/her ways of interacting with God. I care deeply about aesthetics, image and ruling-concepts, I care about the ancient story and the present chapter, I care about personal stories and cosmic motion. I care about the normalcy of greatness, and the ideas that make GreatHearts in the world. Starting in my home.

I care about how people handle each other – I care about the human family. I care about how a dulcimer voice sounds, how a lyric is crafted and how the wind feels in the middle of a big field.

I really care.

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