The Best Sort of Gratitude

I scrape tomato sauce off plates over the sink as we finish up dinner so that we can move on to the rest of our evening.  Dinner is the together time that we have between work, school and the evening activities.  Tonight is a bit rushed, for I forgot to put the lasgna in the oven before I left, and we have a deadline to swallow the meal and get out the door.

The Stinker interrupts my clean-up with a yell, "Oh, Mom!  We forgot our thankful leaves!"

His face shines with anticipatation at the sitting down together and writing on paper leaf cut-outs our gratitude for a gift of that day.  It is a tradition started a few years ago, for each to write down every day in November something we're thankful for and stick it to the wall for all to enjoy.  In times past, a paper trunk has made the tree seem more tree-like, but often it's just leaves -- colorful spots of gratitude posted as reminders of the abundance of blessing.

I pause, frustrated that I've forgotten already about this anticipated evening ritual, frustrated at the rush that pushes thankfulness aside and focuses on the urgent.  Shouldn't there always be time for gratitude?  Then, I stand thankful for the young one of my own to remind me of the important, thankful for time to give thanks, and thankful for so many blessings to record.

As the pen is passed and the leaves are chosen, we smile at one another's blessings for the day:
     books and warm blankets
     Pizza King
     a brother and sister to play with
     wipes in the car (to clean up The Princess when she cried so hard she vomited)

Small gifts, some amusing and some serious, fill our walls each November.  And as the trees outdoors lose their leaves, our tree inside branches out.

Our hearts branch out too -- towards each other and toward the Giver of all good gifts. 

For shared gratitude is the best sort of gratitude.










And the gifts go on.  Praising a generous God for gifts #401 - #418:

gratitude lists of many kinds

people to remind me to give thanks

spots of color on my wall as evidence of blessing

remembering that giving thanks allows our lights to shine before men

a phone call with an old friend

pajamas with a pink tutu

Baby Girl's bowed head and folded hands

"1, 2, 3, 5, 5, 6 . . . " is the way she counts

a heart that accepts correction

tiny twin pony tails

family that are also friends

loving my husband more each day

a clean floor (even if only for a few minutes!)

a Sunday dinner without having to cook a thing

ladies at church who pick up my slack

movie night at home with my family (Toy Story 3 this time)

texts from my brother

a son who writes "I love you" on my to-do lists

A Giver who gives even when we forget gratitude

The Best Sort of Gratitude

A Calendar of Forever

I look at the calendar, and I panic.

I picture myself with my hands in the air, trying to capture the days as they fly swiftly by.  As I pull my hands down and open them, I see that they are empty.  How can this be?  How is it that the days which once stretched before me into years have become distant memories?  And the memories have faded until only a few remain stuck in some corner of my mind to keep and replay and treasure and cling to . . . because it's all I have left of that time.  And yet, I can barely recall it. 

I hardly remember him like this:

My first baby is going to school, and my cheeks are wet.  He's ten, not five.  He's going to fifth grade, not kindergarten. . . and yet the hurt and the heartache, I imagine, are no different.  I'm not ready to let go.

And so I read the journal I've written for him over the years, and I come to July 8, 2003.  He's three and a half years old.  I have written, "A day after talking about Jesus walking on the water, you said, 'I can't walk on water, Mommy.  Jesus will just have to carry me.'"  And I cry for the little boy heart that has always been for Jesus, that has always led me to Him because I can't keep him little forever.

But we think it's time.  And still I cling, thinking that it's in my control . . . thinking that by holding him here, I'm keeping things the same and forbidding tomorrow to come.  But I'm not.  I'm only pretending.  And he has his own paths to walk, his own sky to soar . . . his own water to walk with Jesus.

So, I breathe deep.  I pray.  And I count the blessings of yesterday and the promise of Eternity, where I never have to let go forever. 

And as I count, Jesus will just have to carry me.

"When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
they will not sweep over you."
~Isaiah 43:2








Counting gifts #124 to 149:

I'm not too heavy for Jesus

He carries my babies too

morning talks with The Thinker

memories preserved in journals

encouragement from friends and family

a sunset over the lake

waiting

sand castles

the white of the gull's wing

ligthhouses

crashing waves

a time to relax

good books

bike rides

cloud watching in the backyard with all three kids

Uno with my boys

games of Blokus with my boys, and I finally win!

bird song

an impromptu visit with my brother and sister

a new aunt reading books to Baby Girl

squirt gun fights with my nephews

there's still some summer left

awareness that these really are the best days

A Calendar of Forever

Get Closer Up

The Thinker is growing up.  It's difficult to believe we're wrapping up his fourth grade year.  He recently finished a devotional book, Starting Strong, and we were discussing it.  I asked him if he enjoyed it and if he saw any benefits of a written response to the Bible. 

"Yeah, Mom.  It got me closer up, you know?" 

"How's that?" I asked.

"Well, I thought I knew everything about Naaman, see?  And then I discovered that God used a servant girl to help him, and that was surprising.  God uses different things.  It's good because it made me really look at the Bible and see new things.  I got closer to it."

My prayer for him, for you, for me today, is that we sidle up to the Word, look a little more intently, respond a little more thoughtfully and make one more connection to God than we've done before.  Get closer to His Word.  Get closer to Him. 

Get closer up.

Get Closer Up

What Will You Celebrate? (Friendly Friday)

Easter dazzles the eye and delights the heart.  It's the old, old story about new life.  It's the Ancient of Days sacrificed to be born anew in your heart.

We keep the old tradition of dying eggs.  We skip the bunny but celebrate the colors and the artistry and the fun of creating. 

And we try a new-to-us tradition.  Resurrection Rolls.  Introduced by a friend at church, we loved the sweet symbolism of the empty tomb.

It's Friendly Friday.  I ask; you answer. 

What old or new tradition will you be celebrating this Easter?

May you be blessed by them!

What Will You Celebrate? (Friendly Friday)

Eating Rainbows

A long time ago in a land far away, a teenaged boy was kidnapped and taken from his homeland to live as a slave in a foreign country. After six long years, he managed to escape by walking two hundred miles where he found a ship and sailed home to his family.

And then, strangely, he went back to his captors.

Christ will do that to a person -- cause you to do things others find strange.

Patrick is now known as the patron saint of Ireland for his work as a missionary to that country. He took a people who were at the whims of the gods of nature and their druids, who even practiced human sacrifice, and showed them the way to their Creator and Savior. He was just one of several missionaries in Ireland at that time, but he is long remembered for the work he did there.

All this I learned as an adult while reading a picture book to my kids. I'm neither Irish nor Catholic so when I was younger, St. Patrick's Day was only about wearing green to avoid the mean kid who was sure to pinch you -- hard! Now, I try to teach my kiddos about the mission-minded man and the God who directed him.

This year to celebrate, we baked these fun cupcakes. I'm sharing the idea with you today in case you want to do the same.

I got the idea from Family Fun Magazine, a favorite of mine, and you can go to my Recipe Box if you're interested in learning how to make them.

There's no pot of gold at the end of these rainbows (maybe a pot belly if you eat too many).  May your treasure be this instead from the third chapter of Proverbs:

Blessed is the man who finds wisdom, the man who gains understanding,

for she is more profitable than silver

and yields better returns than gold.

She is more precious than rubies;

nothing you desire can compare with her.

Long life is in her right hand;

in her left hand are riches and honor. 

Tomorrow wear some green and maybe eat a rainbow.  Have a little fun.


And God be with you!

Eating Rainbows

Invisible Collections

Baseball cards. Teacups. Thimbles. Handbags. Wall art. I’ve seen all sorts of collections, from the fairly normal (Pez dispensers) to the down-right bizarre (locks of hair from celebrities). These all have something in common, though. You can display them. But what if you’re like me and you collect something that’s pretty much unseen? How do you share your thought collection with others? How do you flaunt quotes?

Now, I guess I could frame every single quote I’ve collected over the years and hang them. There are a couple of problems with this though. Either I’d have to print them off in very tiny letters . . . or I’d have to take down all the pictures of my kids and family. This might offend them. And my hubby wouldn’t like all the holes in the walls. I could leave the computer on all day and require a show and tell time to all my visitors, but it’s not necessarily visually appealing, and it would be pretty time-consuming.

Well, lucky for me, I’m a homeschooling mom and every day can be my show and tell. One of the things I have done for the past few years is share with my lucky little guys a “Quote of the Week.” At the beginning of the year I choose thirty-six quotes that I think would benefit them and set them aside in a computer file for printing off as the school year progresses. Sometimes they are terrific quotes from people we are studying, but more often they are thought-provoking gems.

For instance, from Teddy Roosevelt, “Courtesy is as much a mark of a gentleman as courage.” I think that’s a good one for my boys to learn.

And from Henry Ward Beecher, “Every tomorrow has two handles. We can take hold of it with the handle of anxiety or the handle of faith.”

I also like funny quotes, as do my boys. Such as, “We’ll be friends until we are old and senile. Then, we will be new friends!”

And this one from Robert Block, “The man who smiles when things go wrong has thought of someone to blame it on.” Somehow, I think they can relate to that last one.

So the other day, I shared one of those thought-provokers from Oswald Chambers, “We have to pray with our eyes on God, not on the difficulties.” I asked my younger son, who is seven, what he thought that meant. He replied, “Follow Jesus.”

Now this is my kid who whenever asked what Sunday School was about would reply, “Jesus.” It didn’t matter whether they were studying the Old or New Testaments. It was always Jesus.

So I looked at him and said, “Actually, I don’t think that’s quite it. Try again.”

He replied matter-of-factly, “God’s the King and will take care of stuff ‘cause He’s in charge, and He can.”

Now that’s a keeper for my other invisible collection: The times when my kids “get it.”

Invisible Collections

The Woman's Friend and a Musk Ox

Yesterday we went on a field trip to a museum in the Big City. (It included a stop at Steak 'n Shake and Kohls -- gotta love homeschooling.) The boys had a great time, and I'm sure they learned a great deal. The museum had many interesting and fun exhibits for them to experience, but I found myself most enchanted by two in particular.


First of all, this museum boasts the world's best scale. When you step on the slightly padded square, at first you don't even realize that you're being measured and compared (which might be a little frightening if the scale was sizing you up against Cindy Crawford or or some young hot thing). But no. This scale, instead, compares you to . . . Ice Age Animals. No kidding.

The Beautiful Armadillo (their words, not mine)

The Dire Wolf

The Tundra Musk Ox

I noticed that the Woolly Mammoth wasn't on there. Apparently this scale has its limits. But I have decided I want one (the scale, not the ice age animal). Instead of shrugging off a few extra pounds, I would be smacked in the face with an image. I would have to ask myself, "Is this dessert worth looking like a giant beaver?" I'll know it's really time to get serious about breaking out the sweatpants when the picture is starting to read tundra musk ox. It might just get me motivated to keep my hand out of the candy jar and my feet on the treadmill to avoid looking like a tapir. Of course, right now I'm between a dire wolf and a giant beaver, so I'm not sure what that makes me. A giant dire?

Moving on to another part of the museum, I was confronted with this:

A Woman's Friend

I want you to know I've had better friends. And if you never tell me I resemble a musk ox, I'll count you as one of them.

The Woman's Friend and a Musk Ox

I'll Owlways Love You

It’s just around the corner. That day of paper lace hearts, candy, and flowers. The little pink purse my husband bought for the Princess is waiting in a bag in a secret hiding spot, along with two definitely more boyish gifts for the guys in the house.

This made me realize that I'd better get crackin’, so I opened up my Family Fun Magazine to a super-cute, easy idea. The boys made these:

Then I told the boys that their writing assignment today was to write a love letter to Jesus. My younger son was pretty sure that he’d never written a love letter before and didn’t know where to begin, so that inspired me to find some verses in God’s love letter, some words that came directly from His mouth.

I discovered the original “Longer” song:
“I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with loving-kindness.” (Found in Jeremiah 31.)

And I found the first “I’ll Be There.”

(Forget Jackson Five. God has the copyright on this one.):
“You are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the LORD, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior . . . Since you are precious and honored in my sight, and because I love you . . . Do not be afraid, for I am with you.” (Read more in Isaiah 43.)

And one more oldie-but-goody.

The very first “Nothing’s Gonna Change My Love For You”:
“Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken.” (God had this recorded in Isaiah 54.)

Take a minute and let your soul sigh over those. . . Isn’t He something?

I’d say those are pretty inspiring for some love words of our own back to our Father and Friend, as did my boys:

Now, I just need to work on a card for my hubby.

Maybe I’ll turn to some other love letters from history for a little inspiration:

…Do you know, when you have told me to think of you, I have been feeling ashamed of thinking of you so much, of thinking of only you--which is too much, perhaps. Shall I tell you? It seems to me, to myself, that no man was ever before to any woman what you are to me--the fullness must be in proportion, you know, to the vacancy...and only I know what was behind--the long wilderness without the blossoming rose...and the capacity for happiness, like a black gaping hole, before this silver flooding. Is it wonderful that I should stand as in a dream, and disbelieve--not you--but my own fate?

Was ever any one taken suddenly from a lampless dungeon and placed upon the pinnacle of a mountain, without the head turning round and the heart turning faint, as mine do? And you love me more, you say? Shall I thank you or God? Both, indeed, and there is no possible return from me to either of you! I thank you as the unworthy may…and as we all thank God. How shall I ever prove what my heart is to you? How will you ever see it as I feel it?… (Elizabeth Barrett Browning)

On second thought, maybe I’ll just go to Hallmark.

I'll Owlways Love You

Stumbling

I stumbled onto this blogging thing by accident . . . pretty much how many of the good things in my life have come about. Good recipes, two out of my three kids, homeschooling -- none of these things did I plan. And I've stumbled through much of it: missed ingredients, mistakes in parenting, bad curriculum choices. I have the feeling though that regardless of how many things I think have come my way "by accident," God has had His hand in much, if not all, of it. I may not have planned them. But He has a plan.

Stumbling