He prayed. It is a pretty big deal, too. Since the end of November, we’ve invited and asked and prodded and harassed a little bit. We pray before our meals, always holding hands, and foster son always politely declined in taking a turn. But last night, with a big smile on his face and hands outstretched, he announced that he was ready to pray.

We didn’t make a big deal about it, but inside, I think our hearts were doing leaps and flips.

He is such an 18-year-old, making 18-year-old choices without thinking ahead to what might be a better idea for his future, thinking 18-year-old plans – sometimes, we want to shake him back to common sense, but mostly, we sure do love this kid.

He will leave lights on, a pet peeve of mine, since I pay the utilities. He will open a can of soda and then leave it, wasting an almost completely full can for us to dispose of. He forgets to lock the door. We sometimes disagree on what is most important regarding money matters, his plans for college preparation, politics… Terrible offenses, huh.

He also does his own laundry. He emptied the dishwasher last week for me without having to be asked. He cleans his own space. He runs errands for Sam. He did an 18-year-old thing and decided his car needed all the bells and whistles in the form of speakers and sub woofers, but he invited us out to his car to let us experience what it feels like when the volume is turned up and the bass makes your spine vibrate. He feels bad when someone else says “thank you” first, because he thinks if he then says, “thank you” secondly, we will assume it was forced or insincere – but we have been assured many times that he is grateful.

As the three of us sat and had dinner a couple of weeks ago, we had a halfway serious conversation about the existence of God and some “what ifs.” As the conversation wound down and he took off to go do what an 18-year-old with freedom does, he stopped on the side of the road to take a few pictures to send to me. I believe God was still conversing with his spirit.

Today, I am grateful for foster son, no longer our foster son. We can take “foster” out of his title. He’s 18, and he belongs. Today, I am grateful for our son, Melvin. He makes us pretty proud, even when we want to shake some common sense into him.

There is so much good in this world, even when it feels like there is so much wrong with this world. It is taking me more time and effort to count my blessings these days – I have begun to let the negativity that is all around me sink in, and when that happens, it is like quick sand to get back out and be grateful.

All I have to do is log on to Facebook for 2 minutes, and my acquaintances and “friends” bombard the news feed with their anger at the governor for mandating masks, no regard to how it might make those of us who live with a cancer patient or an elderly parent feel.

Some of my “friends” fill their timeline with forwarded posts and news stories about fake news media, hateful sarcasm about the other political party, skepticism about protests and online screaming about supporting police officers and truckers.

The negativity and anger doesn’t change any minds, but it does draw a dividing line in the sand.

It makes my introverted self want to go back to living anonymously, just me and books and a pet to soothe my hurting heart. It makes my wounded spirit want to turn off social media again. It makes my worried mind turn to the message from Sunday – to fill the bare spots of my soul, the places where God has weeded and cleansed, with that which uplifts and rejuvenates and provides peace in the middle of this storm.

I am grateful for social distancing that has provided so many blessings even while it has caused major disruptions to what we considered normal.

I am grateful for my brother and sister-in-law’s church, for a feeling of belonging, of being known among Friends. Even though we have never met anyone in their congregation in person, we are beginning to know them online every Sunday morning at 9 am, while we sit in the screened-in porch and participate in their church service, Zooming from Indiana to small town USA. I am grateful for the opportunity to participate, not just “spectate.”

I am grateful for the privilege of living in a big city, for the blessing of living in a small town. Both have so much to offer even though both have many, many challenges. I am grateful that I can recognize the beauty of both.

I am grateful for little miracles, like a finch nest in a hanging basket on our porch.

I am grateful for plenty of cards to send, and I am grateful that my grandchildren are beginning to learn the blessing of sending cards in the mail. It’s a huge blessing to open my mailbox and see cards addressed to Ama Scofield.

I am grateful for a brother and a sister who are taking care of my Dad’s needs now that I cannot help out.

I am grateful for Melissa who is teaching her children to be good citizens, to care for others over themselves, to be the hands and feet of Jesus. She is refusing to teach her children to draw that line in the sand that divides and creates more anger. I am so proud of her parenting.

I am grateful for the blessing of seeing a feather flutter down to the ground on my walk. It wasn’t a big deal, but it was something different that I don’t see every morning, and it was pleasant.

And I am grateful that there are still a few people in our circle who don’t mind wearing a mask and do so out of respect and care for others – especially for Sam – no matter their political slant. I am grateful for Julie tonight – she is one of my real friends who happens to be a Facebook “friend,” too. When I happened to log on to Facebook, she was the only one in my long news feed who made an actual positive statement about the new mandate.

It isn’t a big deal, and it is only inconvenient and temporary, not detrimental and permanent. I have begun to see the beauty of a face half covered – it allows me to focus on eye expressions that I had taken for granted for much too long.

I guess it really wouldn’t matter what the issue was, who was in charge of the world or the state, which party was in control, what crisis we were dealing with…since the Old Testament, people have been divided and lines have been drawn. The more things change in this world, the more they stay the same.

I am still introverted. I am still consumed with concern and emotion. I am still making stupid choices and glaring mistakes. I am still passionate about my evolving faith and desire to grow. And I am grateful, because I am still loved and shown grace on a daily basis, and I will keep counting the blessings and try to look for the good in this world while looking (over my mask) past the rest.

I went up into the loft to put new sheets on the bed and have it ready for our next guests. I am particular, that is for sure. The bed must be inviting, must be pristine, must be crisp and wrinkle free.

We use pillows that can be washed in the laundry, because I am particular. If we are going to have who-knows-how-many people laying their heads on our pillows, we will not have sleeping drool, hair grease, or anything else that comes from a head leaving a permanent impression on our pillows.

I took my time, because it is the bed.

I lofted the fitted sheet, tucked the corners, and pulled tight.

I lofted the flat sheet, tucked the corners, lined it up perfectly, smoothed it out.

I laid out the quilt so that each side was even, folded it halfway down, folded the flat sheet halfway down and then back up, turned the quilt back up over the flat sheet – see? I am particular.

I put the ironed pillowcases on the fresh pillows, ready to sit on top of the two extra pillow shammed pillows. And then I realized the two extra pillows with the quilted pillow shams didn’t look right. I had not washed the pillow shams, what was I thinking?! And it was noticeable – to me.

So, I removed the shams…AND MY HEART STOPPED.

Someone, very recently, had taken my washable pillows out of the pillow shams and replaced them with older, regular pillows that most definitely HAD NOT BEEN WASHED.

Who does such a horrible awful thing in secret hoping no one will notice?!

Tonight, I am working on being grateful for ALL our guests, even the ones who needed some nice pillows and found some.

Tonight, I am working on being grateful for the opportunity to clean houses much more often these days.

Tonight, I am working on being grateful without complaint.

Don’t forget to show hospitality to strangers, for some who have done this have entertained angels without realizing it! – Hebews 13:2 (NLT)

• Weeds that bloom
• A smashed frog, mouse, and a few birds
• Whiff of a cattle truck
• New driveways
• A rainbow in a pool of standing, smelly water
• Good morning sunshine that highlights the elevator and a flock of doves who live at the top
• Lazy cats under cars
• Catbird songs
• A yappy overweight chihuahua
• Lawn statues
• Linden tree fragrance
• Fabric softener dryer sheet smell wafting down New York Street
• A coyote howl
• Tree branches that couldn’t withstand the storm
• Sweat forming on my forehead
• Finally a morning without a rogue uncooperative shoestring

• Early morning storm clouds off in the distance, shaded a beautiful pink with the pre-dawn
• Cool air on my face
• Time to focus, pray, and listen
• Gravel crunch
• Cracks in the sidewalk and street that remind me to not step on them or I’ll break my mother’s back
• How a vehicle sounds on a brick street
• Robin chirps
• Sprinklers automatically watering the grass
• A rooster oodle-dooing in the middle of town
• The early birds like me, walking their dogs, exercising, or raking their grass – all before the rest of the world decides it is time to get up
• Political yard signs that turn my stomach and make me want to turtle, until I realize at least they are exercising their rights
• Listening to an eye-opening book as I walk that makes six miles bearable and just might keep me going

For these things, I am grateful.

Dad,

Today, I am so very grateful that in the year 2020, you are still physically here, being my Daddy. Even though we are hours apart, it is such a blessing and a comfort to know that I can pick up the phone and hear your voice of reassurance that I am loved, no matter what.

I have been thinking about the father in the book of Luke this morning. I’ve been thinking about how all of your children have, at one time, been prodigals in one way or another. We’ve gone away…and no matter what, you’ve welcomed us all back with open arms, eager to see us, loving us in spite of our poor decisions, our detours, our differences in politics, our diversity in the way we’ve lived.

I have been thinking about how hard you worked all the years we were being raised, how I don’t remember a time when you stayed home because you were sick or just wanted to take a day off – you lived us an example of working hard and staying committed to a job, no matter what.

I have been thinking about how there were years when you and Mom struggled, but how you both endured, and how you were with her to the very end of her days here on earth, no matter what.

I have been thinking about how you read so much. You inspire me to read and keep my mind active and filled with learning. You read all kinds of things, but the best thing you read? You made a commitment to read your Bible every day, no matter what.

I have been thinking about how you are facing difficulty now – with health, with changes to your lifestyle, with hard decisions to make, and handling it without mom to take over and just get it all done like she used to do. It makes me very sad, but it also makes me so very proud of you – you are the Dad I have always had: the one who can do anything, the one who is stronger than all the others, the one who may be facing a mountain, but he has a joke and a smile for the journey.

I love you, Dad. I am so proud of you and how you handle life, and I am so, so very grateful for you.

Happy Father’s Day,

Your very grateful prodigal daughter – no matter what.

Today, I am grateful that I have a husband who makes all other husbands pale in comparison. At least, in my opinion…

He, like the rest of us, is not perfect – far from it. And if you know him, work with him, have conversation with him, you understand that very well. 

Almost every day, he does something or exhibits a character that makes me quietly whisper, “Thank you, Lord.”

Almost every day, he apologizes because he thinks he’s failing as a partner and husband.

He is an accountant but procrastinates paying bills and doing taxes. However, I am grateful that he is honest and doesn’t cheat on his taxes.

He is a Christian but is not a scholar of the Bible and does not spend time in the Word. However, I am grateful that his heart is solid gold and white as snow.

He is educated and makes up words ALL THE TIME which drives me a little crazy. However, I am grateful that he makes me laugh with his made up words and he tolerates me laughing at his expense.

He loves to project but doesn’t love to finish. However, I am grateful he is a man of action, not just a man of words.

He loves to project but doesn’t have a plan, so things are consistently completed out of order. However, I am grateful that he has vision and can see what CAN be. 

He has no patience for hypocrisy but welcomes those who have hurt us with open arms anyway. I am so grateful that he is my example of grace and unconditional forgiveness.

Sunday, we got on the bike and rode to the Colorado border. We had high hopes for a beautiful and fun day. Before we ever left town, I was murmuring “Thank you, Lord,” after hearing someone criticize their partner to us, in front of us.

I am grateful that Sam treats me so well and speaks only kindness about me to others.

Monday morning at 5 am, Sam needed to make a “quick” trip to Hays to get 3 sheets of siding, and he asked foster son to go along –  he could use the help and at 5 am, it is always better to have a passenger to keep the driver awake – but foster son was tired, so Sam told him to stay in bed, he would be just fine. 

I am grateful for Sam’s thoughtful heart.

Monday early morning was AFTER Sam had been up in the middle of the night four times, dealing with diarrhea. It was a rough night, yet he still got up, got ready, and made the 90 mile drive so the work could continue that day. 

I am grateful for Sam’s work ethic.

Sam apologized to me no less than half a dozen times as we had to change sheets, clean up the bathroom, and dispose of soiled Depends. Very rarely, he mourns the way it used to be when he was able to wear actual boxer underwear, but mostly, he is very appreciative that he has the option of wearing disposable underwear that can be thrown in the trash and saves him a lot of public embarrassment. 

We are very grateful for Depends.

We are very grateful for the innovation that has advanced so far that while we grow older and find ourselves in the middle of health challenges, issues that could have been so embarrassing, really aren’t awful now BECAUSE of products like Depends. They mostly look like underwear. 

I am grateful that Sam’s pride is not an issue – he wears them and makes silly jokes about having to wear “pull ups.”

He could have been REALLY CRANKY after having such a rough night and then finding out that foster son wasn’t going to get up to go help him. But he didn’t allow his circumstances to affect his day. He told me “thank you” for getting up, for helping him clean up, for laundering the sheets, for going downstairs to make him toast and get out the door.

I am grateful that Sam is always so conscientious about saying thank you and he is intentional about starting his days with a positive attitude.

Today, we are on our way to Hays AGAIN, this time for Sam’s chemo treatment. He dreads it so badly, but HE is the one who apologizes to ME for having to do this, for the changes this has caused to our lives. 

Almost every morning, he calls his daughter, or she calls him. They tell each other “I love you” multiple times. I hear him tell her he is so proud of her, and I just heard her tell him she is so proud of him – she knows what he has to face today. 

I am grateful for my step daughter, and I am grateful for Sam’s influence in her life. He is a wonderful dad, and she is a pretty spectacular daughter.

I am grateful for Sam. I will take his imperfections any day, every day. My life is better and I am a better person because of his influence.

I am grateful for the GIFT of walking beside Sam on this journey. In spite of it all, it is a pretty wonderful life, and I count it ALL joy and continue to pray Wesley’s prayer…

Let me have all things, let me have nothing. I freely and heartily yield all things to Thy pleasure and disposal. And now, O glorious and blessed God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Thou art mine, and I am thine.