The turkey’s in the soup and the soup’s in the fridge. The stuffing got eaten and the eaters got stuffed. Happily so. Guiltily so, if what they’re stuffed with includes a rich dessert.
According to the calendar, Canadian Thanksgiving is over. According to my spirit, it lingers. And so it should, for gratitude makes the world go round. I’m still counting my blessings. Are you?
Some things always come in first for me: the God who loves me, the faith that braces me and the family that embraces me. The health that sustains me and the home that shelters me. But other than those things…
I’m grateful for news media who make me aware of aching needs around the world. For relief organizations that make it possible to help.
I’m grateful for excruciating pain that sharpens my compassion for others who hurt—and even more grateful that prayer and treatment have nearly chased it away.
I’m grateful no one was hurt a few days ago when a young driver, flying high, blasted out both front and back ends of a closed garage not far from mine. And I’m thankful for the sober reminder that even young neighbours need care and prayer.
I’m grateful for my elderly bike, a quiet country road, and a memorable recent morning learning a new skill there. (Hint: Look, Ma, no hands!) And I’m grateful that something so trivial earns big points with the grandbeans.
I’m grateful—even on the days I’d rather stay in bed—for work. For an honest boss who provides an honest paycheque, and fine colleagues to work alongside.
I’m grateful for the editors, producers and conference organizers who, even after long years of familiarity, still keep the door open for my words. And for those who, to my amazement, still invite them.
I’m grateful for the days I mess up badly. On those days God reminds me he loves me not for my (rare) excellent performance, but for his Son’s.
I’m grateful that after my car left the road for the ditch, it found its way back up again without rolling over.
I’m grateful for the members of my church who keep in touch with the Preacher and me even when we can’t be there for months at a time.
I’m grateful for Facebook. For a dear friend restored to me after twenty-odd silent years. For lessons learned at the bedsides of two dying friends.
I’m grateful for readers and listeners who remind me that words are seeds and I should keep planting.
I’m grateful, this very moment, that God let someone invent tissue–and that I just found a wad of it in my sweater pocket.
My list has just begun. How’s yours? Here’s my challenge: let’s stay this grateful all year.
