12 Days of Thanksgiving: Day Eight

“One lesson I’ve been reminded of each year in this now 4-year tradition is that the List is best kept daily. Not yearly. In fact, it’s best kept moment by moment, recognizing all the small things that add up to a big, wide, deep life filled with blessing. For life is invariably filled with blessing.”

I wrote that statement last year during my 12 Days of Thanksgiving and I still believe it. In spite of the frustrations and difficulties and now sorrows of this year, I still believe it. Because it’s true. Life is invariably filled with blessing. Little ones and big ones every single day. This year, I’m literally overwhelmed by what we have to be thankful for. By the overwhelming love and support of so many people. By the abundance of so many ordinary things. Facing death and loss in these early months has made ordinary things difficult and overwhelming at times. But, it has also heightened my awareness of just how precious those ordinary experiences are, how indicative they are of real life. The playwrite, Thornton Wilder, described it poignantly, “We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.”

Today, I’ve made an effort to be conscious of my treasures and of the ordinary experiences of this particular day that are actually pretty extraordinary.

Early morning wake up sounds from Baby Girl >> Getting to sleep in the same room with Baby Girl for the week >> Unexpected morning correspondence >> The smell of bacon cooking >> iPad apps >> Random occurrences of the “I love you” signs >> Giggles as I remind them you can turn it over and make Spidey’s webbing motion >> Hearing everyone break out in laughter during a movie >> Snoopy >> The opportunity to fetch juice >> A clear blue sky >> Waking up slowly as the sun makes the bedroom lighter >> Gas heaters >> Long walks >> That Little Drummer Boy wants to defend our honor >> The constant love and support of my parents >> Mild November days >> Afternoon naps >> Having a couch in the kitchen >> That Bug is fearless >> Giving permission to break the rules and jump on the bed >> A work structure that allows me to bring my babies to the farm for a week >> The technology that enables me to be a working mom from anywhere >> Having someone cook for me >> That Baby Girl tells a great story >> Fresh air >> The sun filtering through colored leaves >> Movies >> Being asked to sit by one of my kiddos >> Just how close they get when I do >> Good memories >> The longevity of a single place in my life >> Whispers in the hallway >> Books >> Extra time to read them >> Quiet moments >> Overheard conversations >> The sound of imaginations at work >> Picnics in the living room >> Sitting in a deck swing >> Being with them all day long >> Playing together >> Making traditions >> A starry night >> The privilege of a day spent at rest

12 Days of Thanksgiving: Day Seven

In my mind, being thankful seems to be always tied to praise — praising God. I guess it just seems like thanksgiving requires an object, and when it comes to the blessings of life, and indeed the blessing of life itself, those thanks rightfully rests on God.

Praise has been difficult for me lately. Not because I don’t believe God is worthy of praise, or because I don’t recognize His hand on our lives. He is, and I do. I think it’s been difficult because I feel disheartened. Disillusioned. Like my knees have been knocked out from under me. It’s hard to muster the joy and appreciation and celebration that seems to signify praise. Instead, what I feel is more numbness. The praise or thankfulness that I can pull together in my spirit is centered more in survival than in the bounty that so often motivates declarations of thanksgiving.

I feel and know God’s hand in my situation. I see his “fingerprints” in the months leading up to Mike’s death and in the time since. I see them in very concrete ways, and while it’s difficult for me to glean larger purposes right now, I’ve never questioned His presence here. His sovereignty in all things. This fact as the foundation of my tenuous faith.

So, as I’m searching for ways to praise today — ways to apply a thankful heart, this is what I’ve found. God is so large. He has to be. He is larger than my limited faith. He is larger than my weakness and my confusion and my disappointment. He is so large that nothing takes Him by surprise, not even my questions. In fact, He is big enough to hear those questions and honor the most fragile of faiths.

Sometimes I think we operate under the hidden assumptions that claiming a faith in Jesus exempts us from the hardships of life, from the unexpected devastation or the unexplainable sorrow. We think that we trade in our faith or our “right-ness” for an easier life, as if faith were a bargaining chip.

The problem with this view of faith is that it robs us of endurance. It denies us the very grounding and sustaining power of faith — the thing we were seeking in the first place. As we slam head-long into circumstances that are undeniably “wrong” and suspect and questionable and even damaging, faith as currency for a good life just doesn’t cut it.

The faith growing in me today is different than it was two months ago. A year ago. Three years ago. As I struggle to define it in this place I never imagined I would find myself, only one word seems right — sincere. Not strong or unwavering or joyful or even faithful. Just sincere. The events of the last year of my life have opened up an acceptance of an honest faith. A well-intentioned faith in a God who is larger than the what-ifs and but-onlys and what-abouts of life. My heart has reluctantly undergone the stripping away of pretense, of rote, of because I said so, and arrived squarely at doing the best I can to breathe.

I’m oddly thankful to have arrived here. Because it has allowed me
a faith that asks “why?” and “how?” and “what the hell?” At a time when I very certainly would have lost my mind or my faith completely if I could NOT ask those questions.

Just a sincere faith.

Sincere wandering.
Sincere acceptance.
Sincere searching.
Sincere blessing.
Sincere wrestling.
Sincere questions.
Sincere mistakes.
Sincere seeking.
Sincere avoiding.
Sincere joy.
Sincere sorrow.
Sincere compassion.
Sincere anger.
Sincere disappointment.
Sincere disillusionment.
Sincere everything in between.

A sincere faith.
In a sincere God able to remain God through it all.
And today, that’s enough.