12 Days of Thanksgiving: DAY EIGHT

“We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.”
~ Thornton Wilder

…When our hearts are conscious of our treasures. I want to live in that place of consciousness, where not a single treasured moment escapes the attention of my heart. I’m recognizing, as I have time and time again, that so much of our joy in life is derived from simply being aware of it. Life, I mean. And all the spectacular treasures it contains. Some days the treasures make themselves known. It may sound like the din of three over-exhuberant young ones in need of a nap, but it’s really being alive calling. Giggles, squeals, smiles, conversations — my heart’s inescapable evidence that life is running over.

12 Days of Thanksgiving: DAY SEVEN

“Give thanks to the Lord for he is good, for his mercy endures forever.”

The phrase happens at least 5 times in the Psalms and once in the book of First Chronicles where some of the praise psalms are repeated. It was obviously a repeated theme for the poets and songwriters (and kings) of the time. I wouldn’t adequately experience a renewal of my grateful heart this season if I did not focus time on to Whom we give thanks. The truth of that phrase deserves repeat play in my own mind and heart as well.

There are many things in this life that belie the goodness of God. We all know of those things. We all experience them. We all read of them and watch them on the evening news or the latest website post. We may each have experiences engraved in our thoughts that suggest to our hearts, “how can God be good in this?” “How can my ‘good’ God allow this?”

Indeed God more often gets the rap for a faltering goodness — one that cannot seem to stand up to the realities of this world. For an elitist goodness reserved for the holiest of citizens, bargained by the saintliest of deeds. For a lobbied goodness paid as penance for life’s unbending guidelines. For an ill-conceived goodness sometimes spent on those deemed undeserving and withheld from those waiting.

But, that’s not the God I know. I’ve had all those thoughts. I’ve been there. In some ways I am there. And still I have to admit that’s not the God I know. The Bible teaches that both good and hardship come from God’s hand. Both smooth roads and rocky ground. Both abundance and want. He governs it all. He bestows. He allows. He shields. He exposes. The scripture begs the question: How can we accept one without the other from the hand of Almighty God? What criteria can we use to determine what may be labeled as His goodness?

How can we believe all we read and say we believe about this God without accepting His goodness in whatever seemingly faltering package it arrives. It’s certainly true; we often have a failing view. I’m not sure I understand much about the greater good or the unrevealed tapestry we are so often left to locate. What I do know is that recognizing the goodness of God sometimes requires an act of will. It acknowledges that IF I believe in this God, then it is a necessary truth that He is good. What makes it easier to accept? Thanking Him for what we know is good. And thanking Him for His own inherent goodness.

“Give thanks to the Lord for He is good.”

I’m thankful for this truth. I’m thankful for the encouragement to believe and embrace it. And I’m thankful that through this gratitude, I’m better able to understand the second part of that phrase — His mercy endures forever. That is good. Through all the confusing times, bad choices, mis-spoken words, tough consequences, wrong attitudes, failed attempts, and broken paths — all the humanness — His mercy endures. That is good. For all the experiences in this life that seem good, we can thank Him. For all the experiences where we can’t fathom goodness, we can rest in His mercy which endures forever.

Thank God.

12 Days of Thanksgiving: DAY SIX

Well, on Sunday I started out this week wondering how in the world I could muster the mindset to think about Thanksgiving. How I could make room for gratitude in my heart and mind. Now that I’m midway through this annual 12-day experiment, I can’t imagine what made my heart so reluctant. This week I’ve come from a heart struggling to silence the echo of emptiness to one that is practically bursting with blessing.

It’s been quite an unexpected week.

Some of this change of spirit has come from consciously drawing my attention to blessing. When that happens, it’s pretty easy to see how gratitude could consume me. Blessings are just so good. And when I suddenly open my eyes to how many of them there are in my little life, that little life becomes so much bigger. Yes, paying attention is a pretty effective way to up the gratitude quotient.

But this week it’s more than that. This week some things have happened that unexpectedly brought that idea of reclamation from Monday’s post into much broader focus than the Pile allowed.

Scorched earth. It’s disappointing. It’s intimidating. And it’s deceptive. Some situations just give us the feeling there is no turning back. That despite our best efforts, this ground won’t produce again. And then there are those moments that let us see more clearly. That let us see that what seemed scorched earth is actually meticulously plowed and tilled and ready for new growth.

I recognized two of those situations this week. A business relationship seemed lost to opportunity, producing confusion, disappointment and questioning. A financial struggle seemed an insurmountable mountain to scale, producing frustration, worry and resignation. Both looked like scorched earth. But this week I saw both situations reclaimed. And I was overwhelmed with gratitude for the incredible impact of small steps.

Small steps seem like going nowhere sometimes — a vicious process of one step forward and two steps backward. Progress is so hard to discern that stopping seems to be the logical choice. But the blessings of small steps and small things and small choices sneak up on those seemingly scorched situations. They till the ground for new opportunities in slow and simple ways so that it is ready for the seeds that invariably come.

Small acts of responsibility like paying debts quickly — whether financial or emotional. Small acts of humility like taking the high road — resisting the urge to say “I told you so” or assign blame. Small acts of compassion like extending an undeserved blessing — choosing ways in what we speak or do to say “I wish you well.” Being intentional in those small areas can seem a futile investment when the earth looks barren. This week I saw the re-seeding of some of those barren plots. I’m blessed. And I’m grateful.

12 Days of Thanksgiving: DAY FIVE

I’m beginning to get excited about Thanksgiving week! This year we’re forming a new tradition. I don’t know if it will stick, but it harkens back to Thanksgiving holidays I remember from my childhood.

This year, my kids and I are spending a week at our family farm for Thanksgiving. Little Drummer Boy is out of school for a week. Bug and Baby Girl’s preschool is closed for half the week, and I’ve already mentioned the blessing of working in a way that allows me to go mobile and cater my work schedule to the needs of the rest of my life.

The plans began in October when we were there for a weekend to celebrate my birthday. Actually I guess they began several weeks before that when I was fielding nightly questions about when we were going to “the farm.” The birthday weekend trip which we call the “Busy Bee Birthday Bonfire Bash” (you can thank my mother for the alliteration) has gained quite a following with the boys. They are old enough to recognize that it’s a tradition and that there’s a red wagon at the farm to pull or ride in. And a tractor and pastures and gravel roads to walk and a gazillion rocks and leaves and the occasional lizard to explore. They are old enough to remember last year’s bonfire which cooked our hot dogs and s’mores. After this year’s shindig, I think Baby Girl has formed her own memories now. At least she’s formed her own ability to ask for the umpteenth time when we’re going back.

So, we’re going back to the farm for Thanksgiving. It’s the first time I’ve spent the holiday there since I was in high school. The place has many memories for me. Many moments that seem to ground my life. My mom grew up there. My dad farmed there. My grandparents lived there. None of that is happening anymore, but the power of the place for me hasn’t changed. I spent many weekends there and somehow had the concepts of family and fun and celebrations and holidays and living better sewn into my fabric there.

It’s different for my kids. They have their own grandparent’s house to visit. For them, no one lives at the farm. There aren’t as many cows or people driving by. We’re not there every weekend. For LDB, Bug and Baby Girl, it seems to exist just for them. To wait for their arrival. Which it kind of does. And which it maybe did for me in a way.

The farm at Thanksgiving was a tradition for me. An old one. One that was a tradition for my mother and my grandmother. This year, that tradition becomes new for MY sons and daughter. And I think that’s pretty amazing. More amazing is the thought that this year’s new tradition wasn’t my idea. It was Little Drummer Boy’s. It was his heartfelt desire to stay longer during our weekend visit last month that prompted his eager suggestion that we should come back for Thanksgiving. And it was all our collective recognition that this place has a new meaning for a new generation that allows us do this holiday thing differently this year.

I’m sure next week along about Day 10 or 11 I’ll have a bonafide “things I’m thankful for” list to share from the farm. Today it’s the anticipation of fresh air, contagious giggles, concentrated time with my sweet kiddos and the opportunity to make old traditions new. It’s the chance to weave some of the farm into THEIR fabric.