It was sunny and I was directing my own steps.
So many other days spent listening and repairing and weeping and rejoicing and planning and arranging, this particular day I decided to own.
Then He whispered.
You forgot and you are forgetting.
I knew what He was talking about because that’s just how He is.
He doesn’t have to explain anything.
He speaks and you just know.
You’re going about your day thinking about how much turnip casserole you’re going to need and why is it that you can’t find the recipe for your favorite chocolate cream pie and He just walks into the conversation you’re having in your head.
The sun floods through the window and His whisper words flood into my being.
Oh, I had breathed one quickly when I’d first heard of the blessing, but I was in a current and I let it sweep me on its course and I promptly forgot to take the time. The sin of gratitude neglect.
All these blessings and all these forgettings.
The Pixie Girl needed money and there was a portion, but not enough to get her to the next place in her schooling.
Summertime preparations and instructions to watch for faith builders were easy to hear when the birds were singing and the leaves were on the trees. It is when the trees go bare and barn is empty that she says,”Oh.., this is what faith is….not seeing and still believing…”
I prayed like I always do when I ask my Father for something.
“Father, You own the cattle on a thousand hills. All that is in the earth, all that is above and below it belongs to You. You can do this.
And if He doesn’t?
My baby girl stays home and finds God in that, too.
But she doesn’t stay home because the day before she is scheduled to leave someone comes in secret and writes a check for the rest.
And I give up a quick breathful thanks and float along the current of preparations for a Thanksgiving of another kind.
The fulness of the circumstances came to light a week later when I was told that a woman had had a dream that my girl needed a certain amount of money, naming nearly the exact amount, for which she wrote a check right then and there.
It was the next day during my list making and recipe hunting when He spoke His words to me that the magnitude of it all came down on me.
Someone is visited in their sleep and told to give, so another will give thanks. Jehoveh Jireh, our God Provider gives and we who have nothing, are nothing without His sovereignty, give thanks in return because it is He who holds all things, sustains all things, breathes all things.
This day I go to my knees and thank properly. It is the only right posture.
God does not want my civility, my politeness, my, “Thanks.”
He wants my extravagant, crazy, fall down gratefulness with thanking words spilling on the floorboards.
There is no just “thanks” with Jesus. It is and must always be “”Thank, You.
Earlier that morning the news showed lines of tents set up along the brick and mortar, some camping there two weeks before the shopping day called black. When asked why she would spend her Thanksgiving this way, one young lady responded, “Oh, we make this a family thing, and since we’re all together on this sidewalk it’s Thanksgiving.
I was sad for that woman and God tells me I am the same.
I am the same when I forget the awe and majesty of the One who gives a life to be lived. Who helps me to live it well and with intentionality.
The intentionality of thankfulness requires the time to push the chair aside and get low.