I am grateful for my husband who sat in a parking lot for 2+ hours waiting on me. It was comforting to know he was just outside the whole time. And then he handed me a hamburger and an iced tea that he had gotten for me – dinner with Sam at 11:15 pm on a Monday night on I-35. My idea of a blissful marriage.

I am grateful for animators. Their art and skill fascinate me.

I am grateful for leftover Easter candy from my boss’s family Easter egg hunt. She buys the good stuff.

I am grateful to be wanted again.

I am grateful for sticky when sticky is good. Sticky notes, sticky tape, sticky glue, sticky Velcro, sticky envelopes and stamps.

I am grateful for Babe’s fried chicken, the best the world has to offer. If only there was one closer than Roanoke, Texas.

It has ALWAYS bugged me when people use exclamation points to the extreme. Like this!!!!!!! Or after every sentence! Because it makes me want to read in my head louder and more excitedly! And now I can’t calm my heart down!

But I was brought back down to earth and taken off my high horse this morning…

I learned that ellipses are only to be used “to signal to the reader that some piece of a quotation is removed.”

I haven’t been following the rule…

I use them frequently to add a silent sigh at the end, or a pause for effect…

I like those three dots. I do NOT, however, like it when they are doubled or tripled or quadrupled, like they are an army of ants marching to a picnic…………

I am grateful to have learned something new today.

I am grateful for moments of no drama. Sometimes, being an ostrich sounds like a pretty good plan. Stick my head in the earth and pretend everything is quiet and okay.

There are lots of scribbles right now. I would like just a picture of a simple happy face. Or maybe a house with a flower in the grass. But what we have are scribbles.

God knows my heart, knows my worry. He knows her heart and her worries. He knows all the scribbles. So He gave two things to me this morning.

The first was this quote on my desk:

Dare to love and to be a real friend. The love you give and receive is a reality that will lead you closer and closer to God as well as to those whom God has given you to love. – Henri J.M. Nouwen

The second was this song. It’s an older one that I’ve known for years, but I listened to it as I drove. I really listened.

Word of God Speak.

And these are the lyrics that stood out to me, blaring like a marching band, but as precise and quiet as a pin drop.

The last thing I need – is to be heard
But to hear what You would say…

I’m finding myself in the midst of You
Beyond the music, beyond the noise
All that I need is to be with You
And in the quiet, hear Your Voice…

Word of God speak – would You pour down like rain
Washing my eyes to see Your majesty
To be still and know, that You’re in this place
Please let me stay and rest, in Your holiness…

So I am grateful when God speaks.

And I am grateful when I am smart enough to actually listen.

And I am grateful that I am daring to love, even when it would be easier to walk away.

Scribbles.

I remember seeing a story about an artist who took her child’s scribbles and turned them into beautiful pieces of art.

It’s kind of like the dark scribbles that now grace our dining room table, the green scribbles that decorate our dining room wall, the pink scribbles that add to the trim next to the front door, the multi-colored scribbles that take over the signature tablecloth.

What to some may look like mistakes, moments of disobedience or kids undisciplined, to me they are reminders that my grandchildren sat at our table and played in our home.

I have a friend who knows scribbles well.

Her life looks like scribbles right now. It’s very messy. It’s sometimes not very beautiful. It is a problem to some, an annoyance to others, a distraction to a few, an irritation that sparks bitterness in the hearts of some who have to look at the scribbles on a daily basis. Some of her scribbles were made by her, intentionally. Some of them were mistakes. But other scribbles in her life have been made by others, deep, scarring scribbles that she has to live with, to endure, to learn to appreciate for what they are and how they shape and define.

Yet, Jesus sees her scribbles. He sees them up close in the tears that flow on the inside, in the pain that comes out in anger, in the crazy chaos of not knowing and searching for answers and just wanting to belong.

He sees how those scribbles are not just scribbles. They are shaping her, they are teaching her.

He sees the scribbles from afar, looking at what they are going to actually become, what they will turn into.

She is going to see this one day. She will see that the scribbles of her life have made her strong and have given her a unique quality that others will want to emulate, will want to notice and gaze upon, others will appreciate. She is going to share her scribbled life stories with the world and have a piece of artwork uniquely hers.

I am grateful for scribbles and for the realization that they can turn out to actually be beautiful.

I am grateful for patterns. Paisley, checked, stripes, floral, polka-dotted, swirls… They make life more beautiful.

I am grateful for fresh-baked bread.

I am grateful to have watched Natia go outside and roll in the grass and enjoy the sunshine on the warm patio.

I am grateful for an empty dumpster.

I am grateful for flowers everywhere right now.

I am grateful for Snickers.

I am grateful for a vocal music concert to attend last night and for some time with my CASA girl afterwards.

I am grateful that my sister and Dad are in Washington DC and watching a baseball game this afternoon, even if it is yucky weather.

I am grateful that Mom isn’t worrying and doesn’t have to worry about Donald Trump…because she would be worried if she were here.

And I am grateful for the reminder to be still.

I am grateful for a clean shower.

I am grateful for a microwave at work.

I am grateful that Sam doesn’t wait for me to ask him to help in the kitchen and doesn’t watch me work in the kitchen, but he always says, “What can I do to help?”

I am grateful for friends.

I am grateful when people in the neighborhood are grilling outside or are doing their laundry and use really good dryer sheets or when they just mowed the lawn.

I am grateful for Natia’s sweetness.

I am grateful for weeds to pull.

I am grateful for memories of hearing my daughters’ laughter in the house.

I am grateful for my Dad’s jokes.

I am grateful for a Royals Opening Day win.

I am grateful for a haircut.

I am grateful for Sam’s encouragement and gratitude when I hardly help at all with the remodeling work, but he tells me my help is a big deal.

I am grateful for lotion.

I am grateful that I have softened over the years and am no longer offended or bothered by people who cuss or drink socially or have more liberal views than I have been exposed to in my past. I am grateful that I am learning to see people as people, not people with labels.

I am grateful when good smells pass my way.

A person of words and not deeds is like a garden full of weeds.

I am grateful for sore muscles.

I am grateful for desk tape dispensers.

I am grateful to have finally met really nice neighbors that we always pass on our walks but had never really talked.

I am grateful for packages wrapped pretty.

I am grateful for people who laugh heartily and often.

I am grateful for clean windows.

I am grateful for little girl curls.

I am grateful for busy weekends, but I am also grateful for weekends with nothing to do but relaxation and fun.

I am grateful for new shoes that my Dad bought for me.

I am grateful for a dandelion digger tool.

I am grateful for hunger pains and food to ease them.

And I am grateful for Kosher salt that reminds me of Ruth. I think of her often, every day in fact, when I swallow my supplements. She was definitely a weed that didn’t grow in a row, and sometimes she had thorns. But sometimes, she was a pretty weed that I didn’t mind so much.