This morning, I walked in to work from the parking lot in the woods. The city has not yet said “Good morning” and the street lights still glow. But a little one is wide awake in the top of the tree, and she is welcoming me with a “Yoo hoo!”
It’s probably the sound I miss the most, now that I no longer live here. The city is full of my yoo hoo birds, and I have sweet memories of early morning walks and a walking pace set to the sounds of the yoo hoos in the trees.
It was as if she was saying, “Hey, remember me? I am still here, and this is your reminder to walk and be grateful with every step you take.”
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I am grateful for early mornings before the city is awake.
I am grateful for Chickadee yoo hoo birds.
I am grateful for a boss who makes it a game to see if he can beat me to work when I am here in town.
I am grateful for productivity.
I am grateful for a reprieve from conflict.
I am grateful for a nice couch hotel – thanks, Dad.
I am grateful for good dreams or no dreams as opposed to the other alternative.
I am grateful for the comfort of silence and seclusion, said the closet introvert in me.
I am grateful for my hearing aid’s blue tooth capability.
I am grateful for stairs to climb and sore muscles.
I am grateful for four eggs that I forgot I left in the office fridge so that I can keep my routine breakfast for two days.
I am grateful for a city alive with all things red and Chiefs, which makes me grateful that Dad wants to go drive around tonight to see the beauty of a city alive with all things red and Chiefs.
And I am grateful for the hymn, “Each Step I Take.” Internal jukebox today, for sure.
I don’t know what it is…but my gratitude hasn’t been as easy to put into words lately. It’s not that I am not grateful. I am very, very grateful, and Psalm 46, 100, 121…they reside in my thoughts always.
I guess it isn’t easy to put into words because I do not take the time to make naming my blessings out loud or through my fingers a priority these days. And, when I do not take the time, it is like not taking the time to pray, or to read, or to eat well. The further away I get from naming them one by one, the harder it is to get back to it.
When I was in trauma and had a gratitude accountability partner, it was easy. I needed to find a blessing somewhere in the midst of the darkness. Last weekend, Chris, Connie, and Geri talked about Corrie ten Boom and her sister being grateful about having fleas in their beds that resulted in the guards avoiding their “dorm.” Trauma. Find the good. Count it ALL joy.
Just take the time. There is joy in the naming.
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I am grateful to be reminded today that Mom entered heaven seven years ago tomorrow.
I am grateful for a weekend away to spend with my Oklahoma friends. Safe space, laughter, and they allowed me to unload without fear of judgment.
I am grateful for our foster son who brings us so much joy and has added life to our home.
I am grateful for two little kittens who provide mental healing for Sam and for me.
I am grateful for a good vacuum.
I am grateful for a couple of former students who still include me in their lives.
I am grateful for winter which gives me reason to wear sweaters and hoodies and feel comfort in staying inside to enjoy the fireplace.
I am grateful for our first Airbnb booking.
I am grateful that I was at least smart enough to put this thing together all by myself.
I am grateful for reminders to live not to please God but to live to trust God. Thank you, Navigators.
I am grateful for the Chiefs. Simple joys, cheering for the team.
I am grateful for really great neighbors – it’s a big deal and one you don’t realize until you don’t have really great neighbors. We have them, and we don’t want to take them for granted.
I am grateful for Karen. She let me unload the personalist of personal thoughts, and she understood.
And I am grateful for the sound of a cardinal this sunny afternoon. God music. Thanks, Mom.
Today was not as planned. I was supposed to be in Texas watching my birthday present coach her oldest daughter at a basketball game. We were going to spend our birthdays together.
But flu 2020 hit on Wednesday and knocked out my birthday plan.
All things considered, it was still an okay kind of day.
Tonight, I am grateful for a small stack of birthday cards.
I am grateful for a new journal from my sister.
I am grateful for a nap and lots of tissues and medicine and no cooking.
I am grateful for the energy to make myself a birthday treat, grandmommy’s mahogany chiffon cake.
I am grateful for a beautiful Ama ring with the Texas kids’ birthstones and names engraved.
And I am grateful for the unexpected birthday surprise of two more additions to our home: Banana and Split.
This season is different from all the others and we are hauling burdens at the end of 2019 we have not previously carried. A couple days ago, I read this from one of my favorite authors, and it sure made me think and reassess:
“In all my prayers, whether I get the answers I want or not, I can count on this one fact: God can make use of whatever happens. Nothing is irredeemable.
‘Teach me, O God, so to use all the circumstances of my life today that they may bring forth in me the fruits of holiness rather than the fruits of sin,’ prayed the British author John Baillie: Let me use disappointment as material for patience. Let me use success as material for thankfulness. Let me use trouble as material for perseverance. Let me use danger as material for courage. Let me use reproach as material for long suffering. Let me use praise as material for humility. Let me use pleasures as material for temperance. Let me use pain as material for endurance.
“By selfish nature I tend to pray for successes, happy outcomes, and relief from difficulties. And I must say, with gratitude, I have experienced my share of the good things life offers. But in the Beatitudes Jesus calls ‘blessed’ those who experience the very opposite: poverty, mourning, hunger, persecution. How would my faith survive, and my prayers change, if life took a dramatic turn for the worse—if I came down with a degenerative disease, or lost my home, or landed in prison because of my beliefs? Could I fill in the blanks of John Baillie’s prayers with details of my own newly lapsed state? Would I humbly allow the Spirit to accomplish God’s purposes in me even through such unwelcome agents?” – Phillip Yancey
We had never traveled this road that we now find ourselves on: cancer progression compounded by life-altering job loss adding in a little way-over-the-hill foster parenting…
However. We have had other seasons that looked just as terrifying, with a different set of hurdles. Circumstances may change, but we have faced rock slides and potholes and road closures all throughout our life. It is life. Sometimes because of our own choices and actions, we caused the roadblocks; sometimes, we were just the traveling victims of happenstance.
However squared. How we choose to respond, how we use these circumstances to learn and grow to produce the fruits of holiness – that is what is most important. God will take care of us through it all. He will carry us when we are overwhelmed. Our responsibility is to humbly continue on and reflect Him on the road we travel.
I am grateful for insight that hits home.
I am grateful for reclining recliners on chemo day.
I am grateful for a treatment room that was right next to the bathroom for Sam.
I am grateful for a can of ginger ale.
I am grateful that even though it drives me crazy, my husband’s brain continues to spin with vision and ideas about what to do next to stay busy instead of giving in to the boredom and inner panic of no job.
I am grateful for a nurse’s deeply personal story of her own road less traveled and her wisdom that what may seem like a mountain to others, is just her life. It is her normal and she knows no other way than to climb.
I am grateful for heated blankets that are in abundance at the cancer center.
I am grateful for the simple blessing of foster son’s beautiful pictures of my piano he took and his willingness to text me when he needs something.
I am grateful for the melancholy feelings of sadness every Christmas without my mom, my youngest daughter, and her children, mixed with eager anticipation for a happy Christmas weekend with my Dad, my brother and family, my sister, and my oldest daughter and her beautiful family.
Christmases are different now – as we grow older, life and living brings tough emotions and baggage, quite often on bumpy roads.
But the one thing that will never change? Our recognition and celebration that Jesus lived among us and even now, offers us hope, comfort, companionship, and respite when our burdens are too heavy to carry alone and the road isn’t so smooth.
Our foster son surprised us on a snowy Sunday afternoon. The Chiefs game was comfortable, putting it to the Broncos and making for happy cheers in front of the fireplace. I was warm and cozy under a throw, loving the afternoon with Sam and football. But foster son had other things on his mind and he wandered into the living room.
A few minutes later, he wandered back into the fireplace room. “Someone told me you played the piano. I’m gonna teach myself how to play ‘Apologize.’ I pulled up the sheet.”
Say what?
For the next hour or so, foster son and I went back and forth. He sat at the piano, I showed him the four main chords that make up the bulk of the One Republic hit song, added the left hand bass, kept an eye on the game, went back in to show him the progression again, sat back on the couch with Sam to check in on Mahomes and Kelce, got called back in to the piano to correct chords, and it was pretty much one of my favorite afternoons.
Sam grinned big and enjoyed watching the two of us talk music while he stayed warm under a blanket.
These past three weeks have been a great beginning for all of us. It is nice to have a young man in the house – he adds a new dimension to life. Daily, he surprises us with his thoughtfulness, like taking care of cleaning the fireplace without being asked, or helping Sam shovel the driveway, spending his Saturday afternoon working alongside us without complaint, and without fail, saying “thank you,” for meals, for a movie night, for a cup of coffee on his way out the door, for help with his laundry that he does all on his own, for some freedom to go to a friend’s house to play video games. The big challenges we thought we were going to face have really been typical teenager kinds of things and hardly anything about which to complain – leaving food in his bedroom and dirty clothes on the floor, a return of junk food in our just cleaned out alternative cancer lifestyle pantry, or his extra long showers that seem to never end.
After a month of devotions and messages on contentment through serving others, we were looking for an “easy” way to get back to giving back, being the hands and feet of Jesus. Our lives have been turned upside down these past two and a half years after cancer diagnosis and our focus had become mostly selfish. Our upside down has become normal, however, and with some added work-related stressor surprises, it really wasn’t the best timing to receive a phone call about fostering.
But God has a way of working when we least expect, and it was very evident to us that He was speaking loud and clear, offering us a way to serve Him by helping a young man who needed a home.
I am grateful to be in a relationship where we are both in sync with the whisper push of the Holy Spirit.
I am grateful for a new distraction that takes our minds off stress and problems and refocuses us to create a safe and happy home for another.
I am grateful for smiles in the midst of upside down pain and heartache.
I am grateful for an extra coat hanging on the hook and a pantry with a shelf of kid snacks.
I am grateful for an added blessing this Christmas.
Happy anniversary, Sam. This honeymoon is perpetual, and I am so very grateful.
Sometimes, my world seems suffocating, but you walk into the room, and you are the oxygen mask to my overwhelm.
When I am overwhelmed with the world around us – the political anger, the work-related stresses, the medical keeping up, the worry and concern regarding our children – you hold my hand and wrap your arms around me and pass on fresh air with a sense of security for my inner panic and distress.
Your sense of calm in a storm allows me to step back and breathe deep, recognizing our many blessings.
When we made this commitment to each other six years ago, we had no idea that we would face a major life-changing move, a world-shattering medical diagnosis, job crises, and re-entry into active parenting. Through it all, our commitment and our relationship has been rock solid.
I will never ever forget your resolve to make this marriage an equal partnership, to walk beside me, not in front of me, to include me in the decision-making and ask my opinion when it comes to all things important. You patiently taught me about finances, about simple home repair, about growing wealth, about abandoning the drama and living life intentionally because life is too short, and you encouraged my new-found independence and cheered me on as I discovered a forgotten Rhonda.
I am so very grateful that you hold my hand during prayer. I am so very grateful that you treasure your faith in God and it is a priority in our marriage. I am so very grateful that certain hymns cause your eyes to well up with tears. I am so very grateful that attending church is important to you. I am so very grateful that you put up with my reading out loud so that you can learn what I am also learning.
I love you, Sam. Chapter 7 is going to be exciting, and I am ready to turn the page and write it with you.
Yesterday was a whirlwind of emotions. One thing happened that rocked us, and then another thing happened that shook us, and then another thing happened that made us want to turtle.
Last night, heads on pillows, staring at the ceiling in the darkness, I quoted Romans 8:28 to Sam:
And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them.
All day long, we felt like we were in a scary, dark fog. Nothing was going as planned, and was happening too quickly for us to sort it all out. It was a sick feeling.
I reached out to a chosen few and asked for specific prayer, and it was as if by 8 pm, the fog began to subtly dissipate. The peace that surpasses our understanding began to lift our shoulders and allow us to process the day without dread and fear.
And as we attempted to untangle the emotions, He gave me the verse I know all too well, the verse that is sometimes overused to reassure.
“Sam. We KNOW that God causes everything to work together for good for those who love Him and are called according to HIS purpose for them. Right? So, maybe just maybe, what we think is horrible timing and awfulness we are facing – maybe…it is perfect timing for what He has for us next. Just a thought…” (Or something like that.)
This morning, Connie sent this to me in a text:
Just read the verses before and after Romans 8:28. If God is for us, who can be against us…in all these things we are more than conquerors!!
Then, Geri sent this to me in a text a couple of hours later:
We can see hope in the midst of hopelessness. We can see peace in the midst of chaos. We have a hope that the world does not have. We can see clearly that all things work together for the good of them that love Him and are called according to His purpose. – Priscilla Shirer
And then, Ellen sent this to me in an email this afternoon:
Romans 8:38 is one of the verses I cling to—in good times and in bad—
“And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love.”
So this evening, I am incredibly grateful for God’s frying pan on the head through the prayers of good friends who share insight as they pray for us.
I am grateful for Romans 8. Over and over and over again, Romans 8.
I am grateful for peace in the middle of a storm.
I am grateful that our devotions this week are spurring us to count the blessings and pass them on to others.
I am grateful for opportunities to grow – fruit is grown in the valleys, not on top of the mountains.
And I am grateful for a husband who prays with me, learns with me, grows with me.
I am grateful for room fresheners to mask the smell of cooked cauliflower and broccoli.
I am grateful for carrots. Not beets. Carrots.
I am grateful for green beans. Not asparagus. Green beans.
I am grateful for people who attempt to invent some normal food out of what is not considered normal in my books. Maybe if I pinch my nose and pretend it is high carb comfort food…
I am grateful for the fun of growing broccoli sprouts, but I need to work on being grateful for the actual ingesting of broccoli sprouts.
And I am grateful for all the people in the universe who have sent me links and websites and recipes to try, but you can stop now.
One miracle. That’s all. One particular miracle, actually.
This morning’s drive was silent with the exception of an Audible book telling us all about toxins in our home and how exercise is important for healing. All the information is heavy on our shoulders. But…
Our pre-dawn view was a miracle in itself, a low wispy blanket of deep pink clouds that seemed so close, if we had been standing on a hillside, we could’ve reached up and touched them.
Sam drove in silence, holding my hand and sighing heavily to break the quiet.
After the truck was parked and it was time to go inside, we held hands and I prayed for him:
Father, we’re asking for a miracle for Sam today. He needs a miracle. He needs…peace. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.
I need to be grateful today:
for pink cloud blankets
for alpaca socks
for a husband who holds my hand and prays with me and tells me many times a day he loves me – he is the strongest man I know, climbing this mountain to show others it can be done
for being blanketed with prayer
for Geri cards and Chris and Connie smiles
for the generosity of my employers who allow me to work from a laptop on days like today
for another congregational care minister who is now on board and holding Sam up in prayer
for heated blankets
for treatment #30 and the end of treatment #30
Tonight will be a quiet night in front of a warm fire, wrapped up securely in a blanket, knowing without a doubt we are held tightly in God’s hand.
rhondaisgrateful 