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November Gratitude: The Wonder of Morning
“Next time a sunrise steals your breath
or a meadow of flowers leave you speechless,
remain that way.
Say nothing, and listen
as heaven whispers,
“Do you like it?
I did it just for you.”
(~Max Lucado)
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November Gratitude: Dream
“It’s been a great life.”
He said it at least 4 times in the course of our conversation. My Pappy sat with his paralyzed leg and arm, oxygen tube in his nose, 85 years of age revealed on lines and spots and wrinkles in his face. My Nanny next to him, her once gorgeous complexion finally showing its age.We sat with them for a few hours as they recounted stories of their life together.
They met in first grade. You do the math.
They’ve been friends for 79 years.
79 years.
What a life…
I heard so much brokenness.
–WWII, an injury and a capture and rescue.
–the loss of Pappy’s mother to bone cancer while he was in Italy for the war.
–the death of Pappy’s father years later who never recovered from losing his wife and wandered off in a depression only for them to find his bones 11 months later in the mountains.
–the miscarriage and the stillbirth of children that still makes Nanny cry.
–Nanny finding her father face down in the bathroom, victim of a fatal heart attack.
–Pappy’s heart attacks and strokes and disabilities.
–the confusion of dementia and the fatigue of life in old age.But I also heard beauty.
–the memories from childhood playing with siblings, first jobs, friendships.
–the lighting up of Nanny’s face as she described the blue chiffon dress she wore to their senior high dinner.
–the shaking of Pappy’s head as Nanny told how he ditched her to ride home on the bus with another girl.
–the joy of each child they bore into the world.. my mother and her brothers
–the strength of waiting and working during the war knowing her husband was a POW, but clinging to hope.
–the descriptive beauty of their gardens full of flowers and vegetables.
–the holiday memories.
–the patting his Bible that sits next to his chair. “I read it every morning.”I heard life.
Broken and beautiful.
I look at them and I know they are not long in this world. I know they do not long for this world. I know they dream about life together in the next whole and well and full of God.
He smiled and said again, “It’s been a great life. I’m ready to go but I’d like to stay here for a bit, too.”
I sat this morning and listened to this song and cried.
And all I could think about was them…
They lived it well.
I was a little girl
Alone in my little world
Who dreamed of a little home for me
I played pretend between the trees
And fed my houseguests bark and leaves
And laughed in my pretty bed of greenI had a dream
That I could fly
From the highest swing
I had a dreamLong walks in the dark
Through woods grown behind the park
I asked God who I’m supposed to be
The stars smiled down at me
God answered in silent reverie
I said a prayer and fell asleepI had a dream
That I could fly
From the highest tree
I had a dreamoooo….
Now I’m old and feeling gray
I don’t know what’s left to say
About this life I’m willing to leave
I lived it full, I lived it well
As many tales I live to tell
I’m ready now, I’m ready now
I’m ready now
To fly from the highest wing
I had a dream.(Priscilla Ahn, “Dream”)
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November Gratitude: The Sweet Breath of Paradise
The breath that wafts
from some blessed corner of Paradise
gives sweetness
to the bitterness of this region,
it tempers the curse
on this earth of ours.(~Ephrem the Syrian)
Thank You, Lord, that in the bitterness of suffering and the impatience of waiting, I breathe the sweet breath of Paradise with which You fill my days… sweet friendships, snuggly children, gentle rains, warm kitchens, and delicious foods. Only You can give the eyes to see beyond the muck and mire. Only You can fill each breath with sweetness, for if I breathe in my own strength, I only smell and feel the curse. My days are already written in Your book, and my life is in Your hands. Only You can give me life to live, breath to breathe. Thank You for this life. Each moment of it.
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November Gratitude: Trust, Even Without a Clue
So I did the same thing again and again. I would kneel down in front of them at eye level and say, “Please look at Daddy’s face. Do you know how much I love you? Do you know that your Daddy is not a mean, bad man? Do you know that I would never ask you to do anything that would hurt you or make you sick? I am sorry that you can’t understand why Daddy is asking you to do this. I wish I could explain it to you, but you are too young to understand. So I am going to ask you to do something—trust Daddy. When you walk down the hallway to do what Daddy has asked you to do, say to yourself, ‘My Daddy loves me. My Daddy would never ask me to do something bad. I am going to trust my Daddy and stop trying to be the Daddy of my Daddy.’”
God does the same thing with you, over and over again. He meets you in one of the difficult hallways of your life, kneels down before you in condescending love, and asks you to trust his loving and wise rule, even though you don’t have a clue what he is doing.
(Paul Tripp)
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November Gratitude: It is Right…
…to give Him thanks and praise.
Yesterday I drove through the still glorious autumn mountains to my 3-month follow-up with my endocrinologist (translate: thyroid doctor). I dropped off my Bella at Grandma’s house for the morning, still laughing over her comments through the drive… “Mommy, can I have your lip gloss? Because mine’s just lip BALM, and it’s really quite boring.” (Have I ever mentioned we’re doomed?) We chatted about how beautiful the sun on the trees is and we talked about how fun it was a Grandma’s.
Once I arrived at the hospital, I sat and read while waiting and journaled gems of quotes from one of my favorite authors, Madeleine L’Engle. The doctor checked my levels, heart, lungs, etc. We discussed future follow-up to come in February (another radioactive scan). It was all just normal follow-up, then she said, “Let me check your neck one last time,” and my heart skipped a beat.
She was quiet. I’ve learned not to like it when the doctor is quiet.
“We need to schedule an ultrasound of your neck. There’s a thickness on the left side (where my cancer was) that I want to check. With your high risk…”
I didn’t really hear anything else she said (there was something about another surgery and treatment if they find something), because the voices in my head took over.
Immediately, they screamed at me, “See? Just when you thought you were at the end of the road, something else slams you. Don’t you know this is how it always goes with you?”
We scheduled things, and I got to the car more numb than anything. I called my Bri and we talked about it. I got to Mom’s house, ate her delicious chicken salad and sat with her and Daddy (who came home half day that day) and we talked about it. I was okay as long as I was talking about it.
It’s when I think about it that the fear sets in.
The best way to describe my yesterday is resigned.
This is the way it goes.
Then on the way home, I heard the Sursum Corda (a 3rd century liturgy) as sung on the City on a Hill: Sing Alleluia cd. A blessing. A lifting up of hearts to God. A giving of thanks.
Sursum Corda
Priest: The Lord be with you.
People: And also with you.
Priest: Lift up your hearts.
People: We lift them [up] to the Lord.
Priest: Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.
People: It is right to give [him] thanks and praise.My spirit calmed.
Yes, this is the way it goes.
But it doesn’t change the beauty of what still is.
The mountains were still glorious. My Bella-girl was curled asleep still in her car seat. My hubby was still loving me, calling on the phone to check and see how I was doing. My boys were still waiting with giddy anticipation for date night with Mom.
Life is still my gift to live, no matter where it takes me.
My ultrasound is November 30th. Will you please pray for no cancer and will you pray for my heart and the hearts of my loved ones as we wait?
And will you praise Him for the life He’s given us?
It is right to give Him thanks and praise.
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November Gratitude: Celebration of Life
Some months ago I sat in the cancer center receiving an iron infusion, and sitting adjacent to me was a sweet woman I had met the week before. She was receiving her chemo, wearing her hat, and generally bringing a cheerfulness to a very cheerless environment. With her was a younger woman, wearing her scarf and making everyone laugh with her vivacity. I assumed they were friends walking through chemo together.
As the nurses pulled the curtain around the older woman to finish getting her ready to go home for the day, the younger one came over to me and asked about the book I was reading (two actually… can I ever go anywhere with just one?!). I sat with my books and journals and told her about the book review I was working on for my blog. We started chatting and she shared how she was there with her mother.
That vivacity? It was oozing from the heart of a woman who was overseas in Spain when her mom shaved her head, so she shaved hers, too, in solidarity. I wanted to cry right there, because I know how special that must have been. Because I saw the love between the two, a bond beyond blood relationship and into friendship.
We chatted some more, shared blog addresses and facebook information, then two weeks later we were going for coffee and a friendship formed. A friendship, that in Steph’s words, is “not going away any time soon”. We’ve shared many moments together since then, sipping blueberry coffee and encouraging each other in our daily walk.
Last month my friends, Tim & Sasha of Rothwell Photography, asked if I and any of my friends would be interested in a promotional photo shoot to celebrate life and to encourage others in this cancer battle. It was a beautiful and humbling experience to be celebrated in such a way. Steph and her mom, Kathy, were there, too. (I so wish my friend, Kim, could have made it, too.)
So, y’all, meet my friends. See Steph’s vivacity for yourself (yes, I’ve used vivacity three times in this post, and I’m okay with that). See the obvious love they have.
And see the glory of God through the beautiful work of Rothwell Photography, read our stories, and praise God with us for all He’s done.
I’m so thankful for my life, for the lives of my family, for the lives of Steph and Kathy, and for the way the Rothwells chose to celebrate us.Once again, I’ll quote Steph:
“I encourage you: be thankful for those around you. And not just throughout the holidays, when everyone seems suddenly be grateful for one another. Start today. Go make a pound cake with your mom. Go dance and make peanut butter balls. Watch silly Christmas classics because SHE wants to. And above all else…recognize that it is God that gave you life to begin with. Live it for Him…”
Gratitude overflows.
(To see their post, click on the blue highlights above or click here: A Celebration of Life)
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November Gratitude: The Living
I love the pinking of the sky and the rising of the sun out my kitchen window. I love the glowing of the embers from the fire of the night and the rustling of the pages as I begin my day in truth. I love the gurgling of the coffee pot and the beeping of the toaster. I love the writing notes on napkins and filling lunches with goodness for the day.
I love the morning groaning and the, “I just can’t get out of bed today,” and the seeing disheveled hair and pillow creased faces and the wrapping little boys in green and blue bathrobes. I love the tiptoeing of a sunshiny redhead and the sneaking to scare us each morning and the smothered giggling and the brown eyes peeking.
I love the talking and the reading and the praying and the sharing we do each morning. I love the swelling of music from the playroom as she picks out a CD for the boys to get dressed to and the face wiping and the shoe tying and the kissing and the signings of “I love you” as they drive away for the day.
I love the half-making of her bed with crooked covers and the beaming of pride on her face when she dresses in mis-matched clothes.
I love the Monday shopping and the walking through stores and the humming and skipping and dancing. I love the choosing foods off the shelves and helping her put them in the cart. I love the trying to carry grocery bags into the house and always picking the heaviest ones and the getting halfway to the door before the dropping it with a huge, “Mommy, it’s just too heavy! I’ll hold the door for you instead.”
I love the piling of laundry by the washer and dryer and the helping me sort them and the using her hand sanitizer because “those clothes are dirty, Mommy.” I love the smelling of sheets fresh out the dryer and the sitting on the bed and the “guessing” whose clothes belong to whom while I fold them.
I love the talking on the phone and the reading emails from loved ones. I love the unexpected arriving of a friend in my morning and the sipping of coffee and the sharing of hearts and the speaking of truth and the encouraging in struggle.
I love the falling asleep on the couch together and the after-nap snuggling, the leaning of her warm little body against me and the wiping sleep from her eyes. I love the sighing and the yawning and the stretching. I love the holding her for what seems like hours as she’s trying to wake up (but is never long enough), then the gulping water down as if she hasn’t had any for days.
I love the tiger mask perching on her head and the brown vest wrapping around her little body and the “grrrrring” to scare me and the laughing when I scream.
I love the running to the window every time a car drives by our house and the dejected slumping of her shoulders when it’s not the boys arriving home. I love the jumping up and down when she hears the gravel crunching and the car doors slamming and the pounding of shoes on the steps. I love the hands clapping because “my bwudders are home!”
I love the curling up on windy days to the howling through the eaves and the drinking hot chocolate (“with marshmallows, please”) and the eating popcorn and playing card games all wrapped in blankets.
I love the creating awareness with the “save the bat” posters taped to my windows and lovingly drawn by a boy who’s heart for animals means we must keep the bat population from going extinct. I love the holding of plants by milk cartons on my windowsill and the creeping of green beans from their buds and the grinning that beams when he sees they are growing.
I love the piling of napkins on my counter because I haven’t found a place for them and “you can’t throw them away, Mommy! You wrote notes to me on them for my lunch and I want to keep them forever.”
I love the baking together and the cooling of the banana muffins on the counter and the aroma of pumpkin candles filling my home. I love the chicken reheating in the oven and the two little guys anticipating the gnawing on the legs for supper.
I love the setting of the table and emptying of the dishwasher and the “working together to get the job done.” I love the sitting around the table and the checking manners and the telling stories from our days. I love the clearing our dishes and filling the dishwasher and the packing lunches and the helping quickly “so we can play more before bedtime.”
I love the cleaning up and the footy jammies and the smelling of mint toothpaste when we’re kissing goodnight. I love the calling Daddy to say good night and the hugging of the phone. I love the praying and the singing and the tucking in and the “there’s nothing my God cannot do, FOR YOU!”
I love the journaling and the remembering and the thanking I can do while I am waiting for my man to arrive home from DC. I love the seeing his face and the weary grinning as he walks through the door. I love the building of fires and the checking in to kiss the children and the curling on the couch in each other’s arms.
I love the reflecting on my day and forgetting the whining and the frustrations and the pain. I love the finding contentment in all the beauty of just being together and being who we are.
I love the living.
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November Gratitude: Pulsing Praise
Thou hast given so much to me,
Give one thing more, – a grateful heart;
Not thankful when it pleaseth me,
As if Thy blessings had spare days,
But such a heart whose pulse may be Thy praise.
~George Herbert -
November Gratitude: Just Five?
“Just five?”
That was Brian’s response.
You see, we have started reading a book together on parenting and raising children and love and discipline. Each chapter holds exercises for us to do together. Exercises that we discovered will not only enrich our mind and heart when it comes to parenting but also when it comes to each other.
Yesterday’s exercise involved naming each child and listing five assets or attributes or just beautiful things about them that are inherent in them that we see, because our fallen world has trained us to miss what’s right before our eyes. Because our natural tendency is to focus on the negative. Because our children need to hear and know and be sure of our love because of who they are.
My eyes immediately welled.
Bri sighed.
“Just five? We could list thousands.”
I love that man!
We are so very, very blessed with such dear, wonderful children. Made in the image of God and daily showing His handiwork.
It’s not only children who grow. Parents do too. (~Joyce Maynard)
Thank you, Lord, for children who are reflections of you…for their father who daily showers them with affirmation and praise.. for who they are, not what they do… for filling my life with such blessing. My cup overflows.
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November Gratitude: My Bear
Thank you, Lord, for little boys and missing teeth and “If I could have anything in the world like God asked Solomon? I’d want to just be with my family and for you to never be sick again, Mommy.”
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A Spring of Joy 