Plain, Old Thankfulness

Nothing unique or hip about thankfulness. You either are or aren’t. And I’m willing to go on record as “are.”

My older girls surprised me with this yesterday:

They made this sweet wreath of the dead plants that I’ve yet to clear out of the flower beds. Isn’t that just like the Lord? He takes the things we think are dead or wilting or things we’ve simply moved on from in our lives and makes them our wreaths of thankfulness.

So many gifts, so many reasons for gratitude. I’m thankful for these small people under our roof, these incredible creations of the Lord that I get to watch unfold. For a husband who’s kind and a true friend and leader. For family nearby that share love for the Lord and are undeservingly generous. For friends that support, encourage, sharpen and are family, too. These are gifts indeed.

I’m also grateful for the wreath of thankfulness God is weaving in my life made of difficulties, disappointments and roads I wouldn’t choose to travel. They are the mysterious gifts of a loving Father that look sort of ugly piece by piece–dead even–but they’re coming together to form something that I’m very grateful for–nearness to Thee.

“Nearer, my God, to thee, nearer to thee!
E’en though it be a cross that raiseth me,
still all my song shall be,
nearer, my God, to thee;
nearer, my God, to thee, nearer to thee!”


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