I am grateful for a sweater. Today, I am Mr. Rodgers. I walked in the office, took off my jacket, and proceeded to put on my sweater that has a permanent place on the back of my chair. “It’s a blue-tiful day in the neighborhood, a blue-tiful day for a neighbor, won’t you be mine…”

I always loved that piano music…

I am grateful for the beauty of blades of green grass standing at attention in the morning sunlight.

I am grateful for the smell of clean sheets.

I am grateful for the painful opportunities that come around for me to see who I really am.

I am grateful for my God who gave Jesus to the world in order that I would have a way out of darkness, in order that I could experience the deepest level of grace, in order that I would have the example to follow of what it means to really love, to really show kindness, to really hold others in higher regard than myself.

Reflect upon your present blessings of which every man has many – not on your past misfortunes, of which all men have some. – Charles Dickens

I am grateful for the sound of excitement in voices.

I am grateful for bacon.

I am grateful for sunbeams.

And I am grateful for periods in my life when I realize I need to step back, reflect, and regroup. Such a time is this.

I walked in to the house and before I saw them, I heard it. The crack of the bat, the cheer of the crowd, the droning on about stats from the on-air commentator. Ugh. Why were my parents so enthralled with baseball, of all things. It seemed like every time I came to visit, Mom and Dad were in their recliners stretched out for the evening in front of the TV with none other than the Royals to watch.

I gave Mom a hard time about it constantly. WHY would you want to waste a perfectly good evening watching something so boring? I remember throwing out the little-known-fact that I probably deflated slightly, that in a four hour which seemed like 14 hour baseball game, the time the game was actually being PLAYED, the time the ball was “in play”, was actually something like seven total minutes. The rest of the time was spent watching a player scratch himself, or waiting on the pitcher to quit head-nodding to the catcher, or watching the camera pan to the crowd, or watching the guys in the dugout spit seeds and chew. NO. THANK. YOU. I had better things to do with my time…like watch episodes of “Real Housewives” or the latest “Criminal Minds.”

The thing was, the Royals weren’t even a decent team. The least Mom and Dad could do was choose a WINNING team. How fun could it possibly be to watch LOSERS night after night after night? But watch they did. And loyal they were.

And then my life fell apart. It seemed that almost everything that I had known and loved was suddenly turned upside down, ripped out from under me, or thrown in a blender and looked nothing like it had. If you know me, you know. Most of it was my own doing, some not. But as the world turns, my choices affected my whole family, including Mom and Dad. They grieved with me, they moved with me, they began a new life with me. But through it all, they remained loyal to the Royals…and to me.

And because of their loyalty, a little crack in the armor formed. We spent quality time together. We attended a couple of Royals games, and you know what? I didn’t mind so much. I was at the stage in my loss that ANYthing positive was gain, including a day at the park with my Mom and Dad. Including an evening in front of the TV with a little ribbing going on. And then, it happened. I began to recognize some of the players’ names. When they would win, it was kind of nice. I became a resident of Kansas City and figured I better hoist myself onto this bandwagon, even if it was with a lot of effort.

TV programs were no longer a priority in my life. It was more important for me to stop and smell the roses. To enjoy the beauty of God’s creation. To not waste a minute of time with my parents. To be grateful for every single gift, big or small. The crack widened. I began to notice the simple joy this little baseball team brought into my Mom’s life. Her health was diminishing at a faster rate than we all wanted. Her days were filled with difficulty breathing, with longer naps, with feeling useless and a burden. But there were a few things that still brought a smile to her beautiful face: the bouquet of flowers in my Dad’s arms when he would come home from work, seeing Natia’s excitement and wagging tail, a phone call from anyone in the family, a surprise visit, pictures of her grandchildren, hearing a beloved hymn, a little Reeses Peanut Butter Cup, and watching her Royals.

Mom wasn’t here long enough to see the tide change. She left us and went on to Heaven. But in her leaving and absence, she created her own little cheering section of loyal Royals, and now it’s hard to miss a game. I don’t watch one inning without thinking, “I wish Mom were here to see this.” It has been a fun two years, watching this “little team that could” become the little team that is, and now, the little team that did. The other night when I voiced once again my wish that Mom were here to see this, Sam said, “She IS seeing this, Rhonda. She IS.”

Oh, to hear her one more time, saying, “Wooooooo-hoooooooooo!” or “Yi-peeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

I am grateful for the times I have had sitting in the stands at Kaufman Stadium with my parents.

I am grateful for the gift and the joy created from a winning team that no one thought would get this far.

I am grateful that my Mom and Dad are excellent examples of loyalty, even in a simple object lesson such as baseball.

Do you hear me cheering, Mom? Did you see that awesome defense in the outfield? Isn’t this a blast?!

They did it, Mom and Dad. They did it.

I am grateful for:

•  Little things that make me laugh – thanks Charlie Boyd.

Studies show that six out of seven dwarves aren’t Happy.

•  A sleeve of saltines and a little butter – I can make a meal out of those two things. Mmmm.
• The little team that could. GO ROYALS!

• Tuesday night Bingo with my friends at The Gables – we’ll have to hurry our games tonight so we don’t miss the beginning of THE game!
• Clean hands. Seriously, ladies?! Wash your hands when you exit the stall!
• This Voice duet from last night that made us both cry and made me think of Karissa:

If I Ain’t Got You

• The fact that we both had tears over a silly song that was so awesome – I love camaraderie!
• Cars, trucks, and motorcycles that are quiet and do not noise pollute my space.
• Grandchildren who make me smile all day long!

• Blue sky, blue jewels, blue water, blue M&Ms, blue shirts all over this city, bluebirds of happiness, blue ribbons, bluebonnets, blue sleepers for a baby boy, blue butterflies, blue fish, blue eyes, blue roses and carnations, blueberries, blue fountains, and Grover, because he’s blue and makes me laugh. It’s the little things, like I said.

Take time to be still in My Presence. The more hassled you feel, the more you need this sacred space of communion with Me. Breathe slowly and deeply. Relax in My holy Presence while My Face shines upon you. This is how you receive My Peace, which I always proffer to you.

Imagine the pain I feel when My children tie themselves up in anxious knots, ignoring my gift of Peace. I died a criminal’s death to secure this blessing for you. Receive it gratefully; hide it in your heart. My Peace is an inner treasure, growing within you as you trust in Me. Therefore, circumstances cannot touch it. Be still, enjoying Peace in My Presence.

I am grateful for the quiet hum of a ceiling fan in a silent home.

I am grateful for memories of sitting in a screened-in porch at twilight.

I am grateful for deep conversation with a treasured friend.

I am grateful for my new book from Karissa, “Battlefield of the Mind.” Pretty powerful reading.

I am grateful for time…time just to be.

I am grateful for an understanding husband when I confess my weakness and mistakes.

I am grateful for no condemnation.

*******

I burned my tongue with chicken tortilla soup. And then I made it worse by brushing my tongue with the toothbrush. Now, it is no fun to eat. Maybe the secret to losing some more weight…

So I am grateful for the painful reminder that sometimes I do things unintentionally that end up hurting myself, and all I can do is wait for the healing, be still, and don’t eat salt.

Before the tongue injury, I was grateful for Sam’s brisket with a sweet crispy coating that was so good I had to eat it with eyes closed and humming as I chewed.

I am grateful for a massaged back.

I am grateful for the warmth of boots.

I am grateful for the smell of fresh-sawed wood.

I am grateful for a few hours to escape into a movie at the theater.

Ummm, I’m pretty grateful for this silly, thrilling Royals ride we’re on right now. Nothing like a little injection of joy and fun and excitement all over a group of young guys who were unknown just a few months ago. Davis and Cain. As if there weren’t ENOUGH reasons, they are two more reasons to love October.

And finally, my brother just now sent this to me, posted by an Orioles fan yesterday. It’s worth rooting for these Royals. I love a sweet story and a really cool underdog team:

First off, congrats. You guys are a really scrappy team and it’s making this a heck of a series. I wish a few things would have gone our way, but hey, that’s baseball.

I wanted to share something I saw during the Royals BP. My friends and I had went early, we watched you guys warm up. We stood in the left field seats and judged balls getting hit towards us–pretty fun to do if you’ve never done it. Anyways, there were a few KC players near the wall shagging fly balls, doing normal stuff. But then they started tossing a few balls to some of the little kids with gloves. They encouraged them to toss it back and thus a game of catch began between little kids (decked out in O’s gear) and KC players. This went on for a good twenty minutes. There was one in particular–Scott Downs–that was having a lot of fun with it.

These little kids ate it up. Playing catch with MLB players, man, what a memory. They treated those kids so well, and none of them had any KC gear on. I turned to my buddy and said “you know, it’s really hard to hate this team.” And that’s the truth. That was really cool, something I’ve never seen.

Anyways, just had to share it. Good luck, and know that if we don’t pull off some miracles I’m rooting for KC in the WS.

I am grateful for a microwave so that I can have a “baked” potato in a matter of minutes.

I am grateful that I have a blue shirt to wear today.

I am grateful to have had the joy of doing dishes last night with my CASA girl.

I am grateful that she has such a loving home to be in, that she has such wonderful foster parents, and that she has three sisters to fill her life with laughter and drama and family.

I am grateful for my daughter who shares so freely how God speaks to her and teaches her new lessons every day.

I am grateful that I like to edit.

I am grateful that my husband brought me some medicine for my headache.

I am grateful for chicken tortilla soup.

I am grateful for a new picture hung.

I am grateful that the Royals play tonight. I love birds, I love Orioles, but tonight and for the next few days, they are on my hit list.

I am grateful for the simple pleasure of late night Freddy’s chocolate custard in the quiet of the pickup, sitting in the driveway, listening to the falling rain.

I am grateful for eyes that smile.

I am grateful for pretty buttons on clothes. I remember Mom’s jar of buttons and how fun it was to search through them, looking for just the right one.

I am grateful that I am self-sufficient enough to do simple car tasks – I can fill my tank, I can check my tires, I can check the oil and antifreeze/water and washer fluid, and I wash a pretty mean windshield, too. Thanks, Dad.

I am grateful for plumbers.

I am grateful for KitKat bars and peanut butter chocolate kiss cookies and chocolate cupcakes with surprise peanut butter filling and melty peanut M&Ms. Yes, I’m hungry.

And I am grateful for the anticipation of a fire in the fireplace.

May you always find three welcomes in life:
In a garden during summer,
At a fireside during winter,
And whatever the day or season,
In the kind eyes of a friend.

I did something this morning that I thought I would never, ever, in a million years do. I saved a Ziploc bag to re-use. Good honk, what is this world coming to.

I am grateful for perfectly good Ziploc bags that are just as good the second time around.

However, when I begin washing them and letting them drip-dry over the kitchen faucet, when I have re-used them so many times their zipperness is no longer zippy, when they are coated with orange spaghetti sauce film and I still insist that they are perfectly fine, it’s all over, folks. Put me out of my misery, it’s time to go home.

I am grateful for maintenance guys who took their break and had a piece of chocolate in my corner of the world today.

I am grateful for friends who make me laugh out loud. Thanks, Julie.

I am grateful for a very fragile little recipe book that I received in the mail from Aunt Patsy. It belonged to Mom and was a school days gift from Steve when he was a little guy. Thank you for sending it to me!

The life that counts blessings discovers it is yielding more than it seems. – Ann Voskamp

I am grateful for evenings at home, making dinner together in the kitchen, challenging each other to figure out the Wheel of Fortune puzzle first.

I am grateful for empty computer paper boxes with lids.

I am grateful for weather girls and reporters on local TV who drive me crazy but are so funny to watch and mimic. That’s not okay. I need to stop doing that.

I am grateful for a granddaughter who is feeling better.

I am grateful for the purr of a cat.

I am grateful that I have the opportunity to see my CASA girl again tonight, AND, I have the opportunity to play the piano at church tonight. It’s good to fill the evening with activity when there is no Billy Butler stealing bases on TV.

And I am fairly certain I have shared this before, probably last October 9, but it was so good this morning, and apparently, I needed to hear it again, so for this, I am once again grateful:

You have been on a long, uphill journey, and your energy is almost spent. Though you have faltered at times, you have not let go of My hand. I am pleased with your desire to stay close to Me. There is one thing, however, that displeases Me: your tendency to complain. You may talk to Me as much as you like about the difficulty of the path we are following. I understand better than anyone else the stresses and strains that have afflicted you. You can ventilate safely to Me, because talking with Me tempers your thoughts and helps you see things from My Perspective.

Complaining to others is another matter altogether. It opens the door to deadly sins such as self-pity and rage. Whenever you are tempted to grumble, come to Me and talk it out. As you open up to Me, I will put My thoughts in your mind and My song in your heart.

Do everything without grumbling and arguing so that you may be blameless and pure, innocent children of God surrounded by people who are crooked and corrupt. Among these people you shine like stars in the world. Philippians 2:14-15 (CEB)

– Jesus Calling, by Sarah Young

I am not a fan of this, nor am I grateful for it, either:

• Aches and pains for no reason other than age
• Being caught without toilet paper at the ready, NOT that it has happened recently – I’m just not a fan.
• Gray hair
• Weight gain
• Staying up late, not because it’s fun, but because the anxiety will not allow me to sleep
• Bitter celery
• Ebola
• A granddaughter with fever
• Dog slobber
• Going to someone’s home for dinner and really, really not liking what they are about to serve
• Feeling invisible when all I want is to be noticed
• Diarrhea
• Irrational fear
• Eating something heavenly and still being hungry when it’s gone
• Dead mouse smell

However…

I AM grateful that I am no longer in junior high, or high school, or in my 20’s. I kinda like the stage I’m in.

I AM grateful for indoor plumbing, for private bathroom stalls, and therefore, that I am a woman and don’t have to use a urinal.

I AM grateful for Michelle, because she covers the gray nicely.

I AM grateful that although weight gain is inevitable, I am the same size I’ve been for years.

I AM grateful that when I cannot sleep, my mind seems to come alive and I have the ability to write and pray and reflect.

I AM grateful that I will actually eat celery at all. Bitter is better in a pot of soup.

I AM grateful that God is God and ebola is just ebola. It’s all in the way you look at it.

I AM grateful that my granddaughter has a Mommy who is so loving and caring and is doting on her, covering her little girl with prayer and Tylenol.

I AM grateful for dogs. That’s all. There’s no turning slobber into a gift today.

I AM grateful for an invitation to have dinner in someone’s home – it’s nice to be wanted.

I AM grateful to feel invisible when the world is too much to bear and being alone is rare. I am also grateful to feel invisible when I feel particularly homely and ugly and fat.

I AM grateful that my boss loves funny cards and bought one with the above saying about diarrhea and showed it to me a little bit ago. You thought I had diarrhea today, didn’t you.

I AM grateful that I can feel fear and actually have some healthy fear. It’s okay to be cautious and alert.

I AM grateful that I have taste buds and can appreciate something heavenly-tasting.

And I AM grateful that I haven’t smelled dead mouse in a vewy, vewy long time.

I am grateful for chairs that spin.

I am grateful for the anticipation of spending Halloween with all six grandchildren and both of my daughters. Can the days drag on any slower?

I am grateful that I mostly realize when it is just hormones, and I do not need to take complete and total responsibility for my emotions.

Don’t let artificial light and city streets keep you from noticing sunsets and sunrises,
from experiencing the spring of new life and the harvest of fall. – M. Basil Pennington

I am grateful for the honking of geese this morning overhead. What a cheery, silly sound. It reminded me of when I was young and hanging around my cousins, Sheri and Debbie. Their “signature” idiom was “Good honk!” and it was the funniest expression to hear and to use. Go ahead. I dare you. It’ll make people look at you funny.

I am grateful, again, continuously, in fact, for the beauty of a flower. I’m just mesmerized by God’s gift of floral artistry. From the kitchen table this morning:

I am grateful to have been welcomed this morning at the office by a cricket who was singing at the top of his lungs down the hallway. He sure is a happy little guy. I sing because I’m happy, I sing because I’m free (to roam in this grand, glorious office)!

I am grateful for a great email from my brother Ron this morning in my inbox. How did I get to be so lucky as to have him for a brother?

This week in my church devotions, we are focusing on the first missionary journey of Paul and Barnabas. Today, my devotion was taken from Acts 14 and the difficulty that these two missionaries constantly faced.  I love how one of our pastors, Glen Shoup, summed it all up:

…they were determined that it didn’t matter how much it cost them, it didn’t matter how insufferable the conditions, it didn’t even matter how many or few responded to their message, they were going to keep going until somebody sent them home…and clearly even when they got sent home, they were going to regroup and come back again and make another run at it…no matter what.

Why?

They had apparently been so seized by the power of God’s Call that clearly nothing, short of 6 feet under, was going to stop them.

Sometimes I feel like this effort is futile. Sometimes I feel like it is so pointless to count my blessings, to name the seemingly insignificant gifts and things for which to be grateful.  But even in that powerful message this morning, I was reminded that if for none other than God Himself, I am to name every last thing in my life that is a gift, a blessing, a reason to say thank you. It doesn’t matter if I feel like it or not. It doesn’t matter if no one else shares in this endeavor with me. I will be grateful until He calls me home. And then, I will be ever more grateful while standing next to Mom, and Aunt Arlene and Uncle Tommy, and Ruth, and Uncle Cecil, and Grandmommy and Granddaddy, and Grandpa and Grandma, and Olin, and Vicky, and Uncle Fred, and Uncle Lloyd and Aunt Naomi, and Judy, and June, and Harold, and Elwood and Norma, and on and on and on…

We must rejoice before it comes. – Karissa, my daughter

I am grateful for pancakes made by Sam for dinner last night – it was so nice to just watch him make our dinner while we visited. And he makes great honey pancakes.

I am grateful for episodes of Green Acres. I loved Fred and Doris Ziffel and their “son” Arnold. And I loved Hank Kimball. And Mrs. Douglas’ boas that flowed as she walked. Sam’s pancakes were no Lisa Douglas pancakes, that’s for sure.

And finally, I am grateful that tonight is Bingo night, and I will once again be privileged enough to spend an hour with my friends.

I am grateful for the intricacy and beauty of veins in leaves.

I am grateful for the way those leaves float so peacefully to the earth as they let go.

I am grateful that every leaf is different and unique.

I am grateful for the beauty of autumn color.

I am grateful for the vibrancy of deep pink roses that take my breath away when I walk into the kitchen on a Saturday morning when not feeling well.

I am grateful for the sensations of a cool autumn day, for the sound of walnuts raked, for the feel of moist clay dirt, for the smell of a grill down the street causing noses to deep breathe, for the taste of steaming chili and saltines slathered with butter, for the thrill of victory as the world erupts in cheers.

I don’t like not being able to have the answers to the questions posed toward me. I don’t like not knowing a definitive. I wish I could respond to the questions with black and white answers.  Someone is seeking and struggling with theological questions that I cannot answer, seeking answers to questions that are not in my realm of concern at this stage of my life, my journey. I wish I could help figure it all out. But it is not my journey, not my quest.

I am grateful for unanswered questions that force me to rely on faith, force me to rely on the fact that I am in the palm of His hands and that’s all I need to know.

So with that, I am grateful for this blog post by Ann Voskamp today. I love her pictures that she tells. I love the fact that just when I seem to need something to hang onto, God places her gentle wisdom into my inbox.  I am grateful for her gentle, hope-giving way.

How to Keep Hoping When You Want to Give Up

The earth’s cold under the finger nails.

I dig holes with a wedge of steel and around fringes of the domed sky, the clouds scud gray.

Dad had called first thing in the morning: if I had anything to do outside, today looked like the last day. Might be the last warm day to dig in bulbs, before autumn begins her blustery, muddy wrestle.

I’d nodded. Yes, Dad. Bulbs, today, will do. And last clean up of the flowerbeds. Thank you for calling, thinking of me, Dad.

I’d hardly hung up the receiver before it rang again, a friend, whose first words spoke of weather too: brooding storm bearing down.

“What do I do when I just don’t know how to go on?” Her voice cracks, flash of pain forking across skies.

I listen to expectations struck, her hopes snapped off in gale.

“Just a day to be sad, I guess,” she finishes, beaten.

“Today, I’m not up to trying to fix or solve any of it. Just grieving today.” And then the quiet rain of tears. Together, we let the lament come.

Then I gather bulbs. Pull out the spade, and go dig holes, because I’m just dirt with no answers, only prayers.

“Why do we have to dig so deep?” One of boy’s face reddens in the excavating. The Littlest Girl digs her own hole alongside mine.

“Well —  some things are meant to really be laid down.”

“I’m going to drop mine in now.” The boy’s holding his bulb poised, looking my way for assurance.

“No!” Little One wails. “Don’t put the flower so far down in the dark!” She tries to wrest the bulb from his hand. I scoop her angst all up close.

“But it has to go down in,” I brush the hair out of her eyes, kiss tip of that pug nose. Because sometimes, Child —  hope’s waiting is dark.

She turns her face up towards mine and our cheeks brush.

“Will we have to dig them up to get the flowers after the snow?” I squeeze her tight.

“No, Girl. When He’s ready — all that beauty will come up through the black earth as if by themselves.”

We kneel down, drop a bulb into opening earth, then wait “for the forces above and below and beyond our control to work upon” all these things. The boy pats the earth down and over and the Girl, she watches.

We bury hope in a tomb of its own.

Like the faith diggers do every day. We bury our swollen prayers in Him who’s raised from the tomb.

We lay our hope, full and tender, into the depths of Him and wait in hope for God to resurrect something good.

Good always necessitates long waiting.

Every tulip only blossoms after cold months of winter wait. Every human ever unfurled into existence through nine long months of the womb waiting. And the only kingdom that will last for eternity still waits, this millennia-long, unwavering-hope for return of its King. Instead of chafing, we accept that waiting is a strand in the DNA of the Body of Christ.

That. 

The boy digs another hole and I drop a bulb, life warm, into depths as dark as my friend’s sadness today.

Every person needs hope planted at the bottom of their hole.

Because that is the thing:

Hope is what holds a breaking heart together. 

Hope is a thing with keys…..

Maybe I could plant a bit of hope in my friend’s ache?

I smile all the drive over to my friend’s. Knock on the front door. Read her confusion when she opens her front door, finds me standing there.

“Gotta little spade I can borrow?” I grin, hold out a hand full of bulbs.

“I just wanted to tuck some hope into that hole today. He’ll resurrect good things out of this too– hold on…. ‘Blessed are all who wait.’”

Her chin trembles and she nods.

“They’ll be pink. Tall.” I show her hope with my hands.

“In the corner of the front flower bed? So I can see them from the window.” She manages a smile.

I grab her hand, squeeze tight.

And we live in wait —

because there’s an old and steadying wisdom cupped in the curve of just those two words, ‘Hope and Wait.”

I am grateful that Billy Butler ate his Wheaties this morning!!

I am grateful for blue shirts and fanny packs to show the world that it’s a great day to be a Royals FANny pack wearer!!

I am grateful for a TV to watch the game since we don’t have tickets tonight!

I am grateful for the electric excitement in the Kansas City air. This is so much fun, and I wish Mom were here to enjoy it with all of us!! Sam said she IS enjoying it. She’s cheering from heaven!

I am grateful that Dad is just a phone call away! End of the first inning, and I’ve already talked to him twice!!

I am grateful for highly skilled advertising geniuses who allow us to enjoy FUNNY commercials rather than ANNOYING ones. Bring on the Sonic guys with their WHAT DID SHE SAY hilarity, and put out some more Rob Lowe funnies, please.

And I am grateful for a random laugh at church this morning when the hymn we sang was “All Hail the Power of Jesus’ Name” and our pastor thought it was chosen especially for today.”…let angels prostrate fall. Bring forth the ROYAL diadem…!”