Nearness of God.

Thanksgiving really needs an object. Yes, it’s nice to be thankful. Gratitude is a good mindset. But, there is something hollow in attributing our blessings to our own good “karma” or simply to chance. My heart wants to thank someONE. The tradition of the Thanksgiving holiday has its roots in showing gratitude to God for the bounty he has provided. Offering thanksgiving to our Creator is a natural response to recognizing the good that comes in our lives through His providence. Thanksgiving is also the catalyst for trusting Him through the challenges that surround our lives as well.

At some point during the Thanksgiving season, I usually gravitate toward this verse from Psalms…

“Enter His gates with thanksgiving and into His courts with praise.”

For the last two years of producing this thanksgiving-themed series of essays, that verse has been a starting point. It brings the realization that through giving thanks and cultivating a grateful heart, we can more easily focus on the One bestowing our blessings. We can more easily draw closer to Him. This year, it looks like that verse is more of a culmination than a beginning thesis.

I’ve written recently about the themes of change and transition that have been prevalent in my EyeJunkie pursuit. I’ve written about the searching and wandering I have felt in my spirit of late. I’m reminded (and thankful) this season that God is never closer than in times of wandering. Though it seems He may be far, his far-reaching arm is not distant.

Sometimes we degrade wandering. It has somehow obtained a bad reputation as wasted time, procrastination or following the broken path. But, under the hand of the Almightly God, is ANY time ever wasted? I’ve been writing another post about faith (which I’ll share soon), that has helped me realize that sincere wandering is part of the full package of a sincere faith. It’s part of the process. And, God’s nearness during that time (as in every other time) is a tremendous blessing. It brings me back to the story of Jacob that began this year’s 12 Days.

Jacob’s life was not a silver-spooned, ivy league portrait. He was a cheater, a traitor, a Mama’s boy, a wanderer. In his life, he deceived those closest to him, and he was deceived by others. He was disappointed. He was afraid. And that was long before he became the patriarch of the Lord’s lineage. Still, it was clear that God never left Him or the world-changing goals for his life. In fact, we see that at his greatest moments of fear and wandering, God came to him. God even wrestled his strength and will to offer him blessings. There was no moment of searching, no moment of indecision, no moment of mistakes, no moment of fear that could thwart the bountiful blessing of God.

“The nearness of God is my good.” (psalm 73:28)

Regardless of my wandering or wondering, God is near.
He surrounds this life, my life, as only He can.
He is much bigger than all I can see.
His blessing can’t be thwarted.

Investments.

I’ve been thinking during these 12 days about how blessed I am by people who have chosen to make an investment in me–parents, mentors, friends, clients. The confidence and encouragement of others has such a powerful and long-lasting impact. Sometimes it takes others showing that confidence before we can believe it ourselves.  The investments of others are gratitude-worthy, to be sure. But, beyond that, I was reminded last week about what a blessing it also is to invest IN someone else as well. After all, good investments bring a return.

I had a conversation with a friend last week about a simple phone call. I didn’t know the other party, but felt as if I did to hear my friend describe the encounter. A man was calling to inquire about job opportunities–not always an easy task for someone who’s been in the workforce for a long time or in these challeging economic times. During the course of the phone conversation, with a few well-placed comments and sincere reflections, this friend really blessed the man on the other end of the line. What’s interesting is how exhuberant my friend was to talk about the encounter. How much the conversation prompted his own recollections and gratitude for the impact this man had made on him many years ago.

Two things struck me. One is how “easy” it is to turn something difficult for someone into a day-changer, even a life-changer. My friend lost nothing but a few seconds of time in communicating some things that perhaps gave this man renewed confidence. It requires so little from us to bless others. The one thing it does take is paying attention. Noticing. Reflecting. This conversation required thinking with sincerity about an individual’s impact, thinking with gratitude about a person’s role in another’s life. That’s the hard part sometimes. It’s so easy to live only in self-awareness, oblivious to the needs or even strengths of others around us. Yes, noticing those things requires an investment of our time and energy and emotional space. But, the return allows us to reap the benefit of soaking up what another human has to offer, the benefit of really experiencing some person or place rather than simply pushing past them to get to the next thing on the list. It made me want to think more carefully about the seemingly insignificant conversations I have each day, and infuse them with a desire to show that person their worth. That type of investment has so much power, and to wield it is a privilege.

The other lesson from this friend’s conversation was how much the act of blessing another person prompts us to see our own blessings. Giving is such an odd little mathematics-defying equation. When we give, we so often get in multiplied measure in return. When we show confidence and value to others, we more easily embrace it ourselves. When we recognize the amazing qualities of others and their impact, we are reminded of the blessings WE have received. We are reminded that people and experiences ARE blessings. It tells me that if I’m feeling gratitude-challenged, perhaps the first step to recovery is blessing someone else.

Vision.

I’ve been listening to the wheels of imagination turning recently with Little Drummer Boy and Bug. As they play together in those sometimes rare moments of being best friends, I’m always amazed by the random adventures of Thomas the Tank Engine or Lightning McQueen or whatever toy has the fortune of being involved. At our house, it’s a common occurrence for dinosaurs, asteroids, firemen and race cars to occupy the same world view. As I listen to them drawing pictures and the running commentary that accompanies the marks on the page, the same wonder ensues. Railway tunnels, fire-breathing dragons and rainbows peacefully co-exist in that world, and any alarm sounded is quickly squelched by simply turning the page. What a blessing an imagination is! What a gift to be able to envision something that can’t be seen!

The most concise definition of faith can be found in the book of Hebrews… “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” The ability to “see” what isn’t there is faith at its core, to take our vision as evidence of what is possible. To embrace it as reality. That truth becomes no more apparent than in times of difficulty, times when the circumstances we CAN see are perhaps what we don’t want to see. Times when the reality is less than what we want for ourselves. In those times, we are tempted to give up, to let our courage give way to acceptance or fear. In those times, we are tempted to despair. It’s part of the human condition. The proverb rings true; “where there is no vision, the people perish.”

My children have become such a vibrant example of the concept of possibility. In their minds, anything is possible. They have no preconceptions about what can happen, and what can happen simultaneously. More and more, I’m realizing that it is this vision that fuels hope. And faith. It allows us to see byond where we are. It enables us to imagine a different place or time or circumstance, to see ourselves differently. It makes the impossible possible. It makes us willing to lay aside assumptions. It encourages us to see our best selves, our best lives. And to reach for it.

I started this year on a quest for courage, adopting it as my “theme word.” I don’t know how much courage I’ve actually attained, but I can see evidence of courageous acts. Small inclinations toward the possible I can see. Tiny tangible steps toward becoming more of what I want to be. This year, I’m so thankful for the vision that fuels that courage, for the ability to see beyond the evident and take that vision as evidence of what might be. Of what can be.

Instant Gratification.

For my Bug…
From the moment I laid eyes on you, you owned me.
In that instance, I knew you were something special.
That earnest look, punctuated by a smile and interrupted by mischevious ideas.
As you’ve grown, I’ve come to know your incredible imagination, your unmatched resolve, your unquenched spirit.
The way you mold your surroundings by sheer will.
The way your heart is uncontained.
The way you have to dance and sing, as if some part of the universe can only be set in motion by your contribution.
And you’re right.

I’m thankful for the undeserved gift of each of my three children.
But during the Thanksgiving season, for Bug in particular, who’s light entered the world on this day.
To leave its indelible mark.

Happy Birthday, 4yo Bug!

Gourmet.

At our house, we have a Little People Thanksgiving set by Fisher Price that makes an appearance each year. It depicts a very cute version of the first Thanksgiving and includes two pilgrims, two indians, a bountiful picnic table and a little horse pulling a giant pumpkin in his cart. We usually make a big deal about getting it out as a celebration of the season, and this year it happened on Thursday. I was running behind in that part of our Thanksgiving ritual (typical this year), but that didn’t seem to dampen the excitement. After a few skirmishes over who got to help the pony drive his cart and who would hold the girl pilgrim, we settled into playing.

Little Drummer Boy and Bug have been immersed in Thanksgiving activities, programs and crafts this week. They’ve had Thanksgiving dinners at school, presented singing programs complete with chopping sounds and “10 little indians,” made pilgrim books and indian head-dresses, and read books. As LDB was setting up our little first Thanksgiving scene to his satisfaction, I made an off-handed observation: “They’re having their Thankgiving dinner.”  LDB was quick to correct me with a response that made me smile. And think.

“They’re having a FEAST.”

Hmmm. “Feast” is probably a new word for him, and I’m surprised he didn’t ask me how to spell it. We are in a perpetual spelling bee lately spurred on my the first steps in learning to read.

They’re having a feast. It was more than a lesson in semantics. Little Drummer Boy rightly recognized the distinction that our little pilgrims and indians weren’t just eating. It was evident to him they weren’t just getting by with table scraps. They were feasting.

It made me realize the truth that abundance is almost always in the eye of the beholder. Our mindset often determines how full our table is. And while I could expound a whole other post about the delicious family Thanksgiving recipes we look forward to, what’s steaming in the serving dishes really doesn’t affect our recognition of bounty. At least it doesn’t have to.

I’m so thankful for that reminder from my little Thanksgiving Gourmet this year. I want to enjoy this and the upcoming holidayseasons with a gourmet mindset, regardless of the circumstances. I want to cultivate a lifestyle where my eyes are always bigger than my stomach. I want to recognize and embrace the feast before me in each endeavor.