I miss these two girls today. A lot. Days like today, with the rain falling and the sunshine hidden from view, make me fairly melancholy. I am sad that Parker and Reilly are growing up and we do not know each other any more. I am very grateful, though, that they have wonderful parents who love them enough to take them on adventures and are teaching them how to do love and not just talk about it. I am grateful that they have parents who take risks and follow their heart, grateful that the girls are growing up with “less,” so that they learn the lesson of appreciation. I have much to be grateful for – their lives are so blessed and I count it one of the greatest privileges in my life to call them my granddaughters. My selfishness and self-pity are weaknesses that God and I continue to work on.

I am grateful for memories of Mom’s little plastic rain bonnets that came in little squares or in little plastic containers, apparently very convenient to carry in her large purses, ready to be unwrapped at a moment’s notice. I always thought they were the strangest things and not-so-lovely, but as I walked into work this morning, I could certainly appreciate their usefulness on days like this. I have visions of Mom in her plastic rain bonnet and her cat-eye glasses…I miss my Mom.

I am grateful for rainy days when the rain is just steady and constant, no lightning, no thunder, just showers of blessings that make the world a beautiful place to live, washing away the grime and making the grass and flowers and crops grow.

While we are creating sophisticated organizations and employing the latest technology to win the world to Christ, let us not forget that our neighbor judges Jesus Christ by what he see in us. – Chuck Colson

 

I am grateful for my umbrella that is strong and large and easy to open and close.

I am grateful for a melted Hershey bar.

Like this one: I am grateful for men who wear ironed dress shirts and tuck them in. I still do not understand the acceptable fashion of wearing dress shirts untucked, especially on men older than…30.

I am grateful for the the sound Bible pages make when I’m searching for particular passages – the rustling of those thin pages is music to my ears. Think about it – when was the last time you heard that noise in church? It’s a lost sound these days. I miss hearing multiple Bibles being used at the same time.

And I am grateful for my nephew Adam. Today, he leaves for basic training. I am so proud of him for making this decision to serve his country and as an 18 year old, he is taking the bull by the horns and is beginning to map out his future. I cannot even imagine the anguish and pride his parents and his little brother are feeling right now. God, bless this family and keep Adam wrapped tightly in Your arms. Bring people into his life who will positively influence him, will guide him in the right way, will show him how to trust in You when he is afraid or discouraged. Remind him to call home every now and then and to never forget all of the lessons he has learned from his Mom and Dad about how to persevere, how to be generous, how to serve others, and how to find joy in the midst of hardships. Thank You for bringing this awesome kid into the world, and thank You for what You are going to do in his life. What a privilege it is to be able to watch from the sidelines.

I am grateful to have seen a mallard duck flying beside our window as we drove to South Dakota on Saturday afternoon. I’d never had that experience before, and it was a treat.

I am grateful for time to laugh with Karissa on the phone on Sunday afternoon.

I am grateful that my daughter is such a wonderful Mommy and takes four children under 5 swimming on a Sunday afternoon.

I am grateful for the simple curved loveliness of a soft serve ice cream cone.

I am grateful for the ability to see the deep green in corn plants growing in the fields of Missouri and Nebraska.

I am grateful for manicured lawns in a small town – it was so enjoyable to drive through Adrian, Minnesota and see how the residents of this beautiful town take care of their homes and yards.

I am grateful for the surprise of talking to Delores on Saturday when my Dad called me back.

I am grateful for strangers who want to share their new corvette with us in the parking lot of a McDonalds.

I am grateful to have seen the serenity of a hawk sitting in a tree.

I am grateful for the grandeur of a stately old ash tree.

I am grateful to watch charter buses pass by and not be in one.

I am grateful for the privilege of watching a little sister eagerly wait outside the bus for her big sister to disembark, and then seeing the burst of excitement when she finally sees Kyra, culminating in a huge hug.

I am grateful for the awesomeness of cathedrals. This happens to be St. Joseph’s Cathedral in Sioux Falls on Saturday night.

I am grateful for Sam and having my hand held by him in the silence as the miles go by.

I am grateful for the memories that a musty smell of a basement brings to mind – Wellsford Church and Grandpa Johnson’s cellar.

I am grateful for clean public restrooms.

Whimsy needs to be fully experienced to be fully known. Whimsy doesn’t care if you are the driver or the passenger; all that matters is that you are on your way. – Bob Goff

I am grateful for a children’s message that involved streamers and party hats and party horns and balloons, for hearing little ones happily squeal when invited to blow bubbles in church.

I am grateful for the delight of hearing Norwegian accents and being the oddball who doesn’t have one.

I am grateful to have seen the bluffs in Missouri, Nebraska, and Iowa.

I am grateful that my brother took my Dad to a shooting range – what an experience for him!

I am grateful for the lesson on “whimsy” from Bob Goff and his book, “Love Does.”

I am grateful for Kristi’ s message yesterday about Pentecost and embracing chaos and mess and noise and LIFE in the church.

I am grateful for the brutal honesty of little ones and their inability to keep a happy secret.

I am grateful for car squeegees with a good sponge and a stiff but not too stiff rubber blade. Oh, and clean, soapy water in buckets attached to the gas pumps.

I am grateful for the sweetness of Max.

I am grateful to be home. There’s no place like home.

I am grateful for the relief and peace I feel when I talk to Geri. I love having that kind of friend…even though we hadn’t spoken for 2+ years, it was like it was yesterday and time had not passed.

I am grateful for my book, “One Thousand Gifts,” by Ann Voskamp.  I love books that make me “happy cry.”

And finally, I am so very grateful for the opportunity to go to Minnesota on a random, whimsical, spontaneous trip on Saturday to meet one of “our pastors” from Adam’s challenge: to pray for her and her congregations for 30 days. Her name is Kristi, and she is the minister for two United Methodist congregations in rural southwest Minnesota. She sent Sam and I an email on Friday while we sat on the bus slowly making our way home from the choir trip. She shared with us how excited she was for Sunday’s message on the Pentecost and the birth of the church. A seed was planted, and at about 1 pm on Saturday afternoon, we decided to hop in the truck and take another road trip to attend her church on Sunday morning. What a wonderful blessing it was for us to see firsthand her work, her congregation in Adrian, and hear her speak with an excitement and a passion for revival of the church. We both feel like this just might be our “niche” and a way we can serve the Lord and serve our church’s mission, too. There’s absolutely nothing like the feeling of wanting to bless someone else and ending up receiving more blessings than we could have given…thank you, Kristi, for being such a beautiful example to us this weekend. This quote makes me think of you:

 You are where you are, for such a time as this – not to make an impression, but to make a difference. – Ann Voskamp

I am grateful for a bed to sleep in every night of this trip, rather than a hard concrete floor or a gym floor…or a seat on the bus.

I am grateful for junior high girls who eagerly volunteer to help.

I am grateful for Lysol on a bus full of junior high boys.

I am grateful for the awesome beauty of rock formations at Echo Canyon.

I am grateful for little soaps and lotions that are free.

I am grateful for the opportunity to walk around the plaza at St.Francis Cathedral in Santa Fe this morning and visit with several native Indian artisans.

I am grateful for random fun standing in a convenience store waiting on a restroom, hearing Sophia speak Portuguese and Anna speak Latin.

I am grateful for enough clean clothes to end the trip tomorrow.

I am grateful for sweet conversations with some elderly residents of an assisted living facility this morning.

I am grateful for flashlights.

I am grateful for the warmth of a sunbeam on a crisp, cool morning.

I am grateful for the interesting beauty of adobe architecture.

I am grateful for the fact that these kids have gotten to know Sam and love him.

I am grateful for emails from Rick, Kristi, and Lisa.

I am grateful for sleeping middle schoolers.

I am grateful that I have such strong daughters and grateful that Karissa made it through the morning with help from the nurses and really wonderful children who knew to be good while Mommy was busy.

I am grateful for the miracle of Anjalie.

And I am grateful for the snack box on the bus. One more day of total indulgence and chips to my heart’s content, and then it’s back to reality.

This is an excerpt from “One Thousand Gifts.” This made me cry, made me want to shout, “Yes!!! I get it!” She has a beautiful way of explaining why I write this grateful each day…

Some days I pick up a camera and it’s a hammer.
The lens is my ink, for cameras have sensor eyes, and pixels record. I slide it into a pocket, a thin point-and-shoot, and find another way to chronicle, to force the lids open; another way to receive the moment with thanks reverential. When he comes in from the barn, the Farmer finds me with my hammer in hand, leaning over a plate of cheese grated and sitting in sunlight. It is true. I do feel foolish. I mean, it’s curls of mozzarella and cheddar piled high in a pond of golden day. And I’m changing the settings for macro, pulling in for a close-up frame. He’s fed 650 sows with one string arm this morning, flicked on a welder and melded steel. It is quite possible that the God-glory of a ring of shredded cheese may be lost on him.
It isn’t.
“I like finding you like this.” He wraps one arm around my bowed middle, draws me close and up into him strong.
“Crazy like this?” I blush silliness, and he brushes close with the four day stubble. He laughs.
“Perfect like this.” He nods toward the cheese plate. “You being happy in all these little things that God gives. It makes me very happy.”
Happy in all these little things that God gives. Ridiculously happy over slips of cheese. That I am, and it’s wild, and, oh, I am the one who laughs. Me! Changed! Surprised by joy!
Joy is the realest reality, the fullest life, and joy is always given, never grasped. God gives gifts and I give thanks and I unwrap the gift given: joy.
It is true, I never stop wanting to learn the hard [gratitude] for the deathbeds and dark skies and the prodigal sons. But I accept this is the way to begin, and all hard things come in due time and with practice. Yet now wisps of cheese tell me gentle that this is he first step into [gratitude’s] miracle. Gratitude for the seemingly insignificant – a seed – this plants the giant miracle. The miracle of [gratitude], like the Last Supper, is in the eating of crumbs, the swallowing down one mouthful. Do not disdain the small. The whole of the life – even the hard – is made up of the minute parts, and if I miss the infinitesimals, I miss the whole. These are the new language lessons, and I live them out. There is a way to live the big of giving thanks in all things. It is this: to give thanks in this one small thing. The moments will add up.
I, too, had read it often, the oft-quoted verse: “And give thanks for everything to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ” (Ephesians 5:20). And I, too, would nod and say straight-faced, “I’m thankful for everything.” But in this counting gifts, to one thousand, more, I discover that slapping a sloppy brush of thanksgiving over everything in my life leaves me deeply thankful for very few things in my life.
A lifetime of sermons on “thanks in all things” and the shelves of sagging books on these things and I testify: life-changing gratitude does not fasten to a life unless nailed through with one very specific nail at a time.
Little nails and a steady hammer can rebuild a life – [gratitude] precedes the miracle.
I snap a picture of cheese.

I am grateful for the use of this IPad on the bus.

I am grateful for the sound of horseshoes hitting the stake.

I am grateful for a quiet walk in a park, hearing only the crunch of pine cones under foot.

I am grateful for a soft pillow to lay my head each night.

I am grateful for the smile of a young man at a soup kitchen.

I am grateful for sweet words from Grace.

I am grateful for Dani and her concern for the kids and for me.

I am grateful for a seasoned young man whose name is Sy Scarborough, the owner of the Bar D Chuckwagon Dinner and Show. Sam and I were blessed to meet him and visit for quite awhile last night before dinner. I shared with him about visiting the Flying W Ranch in Colorado Springs a few years ago with a choir and with some friends in the Springs area, and my favorite song had been, “I Am My Own Grandpa.” He told us that they had performed that song the night before and was not in the rotation for the evening’s show. And then, in the middle of the show, he came out onto the stage and surprised me by announcing what I had shared, and he sang it for me.

I am grateful for a new piece of art that Sam bought for me at the last stop. It is a painting of two chickadees in a branch loaded with berries. It could have been painted just outside our front door. I can’t wait to get it hung in the yellow bedroom.

And I am grateful for a camera on my cell phone, so that I could capture the southern Colorado scenery, my version of curls of cheese today.