"How are you?"

I've been making a note of how conversations start for the last couple of weeks. Without a doubt, "How are you?" is the most common greeting question I've asked and been asked. It's a pretty sensible question for that purpose. Asking it shows that you care, and it also invites the other person to talk and share how their life is going.

Of course, the inevitable answer of "good" rarely conveys any actually useful information about how someone is feeling. This opens the door to further inquiry, and yet I've found that this potential rarely comes to fruition. Rather the question tends to fall away as a mere transition into conversation, rather than as a topic itself.

Thus over these last couple of weeks, I've been trying to switch to a new greeting. "So, what have you been thinking about?" It's simple, just as easy to throw out, and has a greater potential to generate some actually meaningful conversation.

But more often than not, the standard question still comes up.

"How are you?"

"I'm good, how are you?"

"Good."

For a long time I disdained this sequence for its fakeness. Surely, we are not always "good" and we even know this of the other person. Yet the cycle continues, as what was once a possible sign of empathy becomes just an inefficient "hi."

And yet today as I reflected more upon this standard conversation starter, it has suddenly taken on an unexpected beauty.

As with many of my thoughts, it began with a sort of paradox. I am not always "good" when someone asks me this question. And yet that leads to the question, "why not?"

Because I have homework and papers? Or a long work shift tonight?
Perhaps I couldn't fall sleep? Maybe I've been sick?

And yet I am alive. I have a loving family. I am young. I have time. I have food. I have clothes. I can attend university. I have friends who I can laugh with and trust. I know a God who died for me.

My life is good.

"How are you?"

"I'm good, how are you?"

"Good."

In a sense, this short exchange validates this thanksgiving. Despite any trials we go through, we acknowledge that life is still good. Of course, we're not always actually thinking about this as we say "good." Usually it's just a mindless, pre-conditioned response. I know it sure is for me.

And yet perhaps if I just gave it an ounce of thought afterwards, I would realize that it's not quite as mindless and fake as it seems. In my human weakness and foolishness, I may truly believe that I am not well.

But I am. Perhaps a reminder of that is just what I need to start every conversation.