Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.

Thanks be to God.

This is the word of the Lord. Amen.

Thank you, Aaron.

On a sunny October day last fall, I was trying to round up my kids after a soccer game.

And that's when I overheard Simon, my six-year-old, and his cousin Levi, also six,

arguing about the score.

They play on the same team, and the game had just ended, but because this is Portland in the year

2025, they don't keep the score.

Everyone is a winner, which is a fool's errand because literally every kid is keeping the score,

only it's never the same score.

So Levi and Simon were both convinced that their team had won by an astronomical amount.

They had lost.

Each of them thought the other had played well, but had scored just one goal less than me.

We don't keep score.

Sure, I get it.

But for every kid actually playing in the game, nothing is more important than keeping

the score.

And that thing that Simon and Levi were doing after the soccer game, we never really

grow out of that. Last Saturday I opened

the fridge to grab the smoothie that I had masterfully crafted for my lunchtime nourishment,

only to discover that it was in a different cup than the one I had left it in. Kirsten? Did you put my smoothie in a different cup?

...