Gratitude is truly a process, a practice, a way of seeing.
I've been a wee bit too busy to sit at the computer and type my list of gratitude out, or even to write it out longhand in my journal. I know that there are gifts that have slipped through my fingers. Even without the words, though, I know that my perspective has changed from where it used to be.
The fleeting rays of golden orange and royal purple, a glorious sunset finishing out a day.
Birds flying overhead to their nests each day, reminding me that "His eye is on the sparrow, and I know he watches me."
The gentle drip of a coffee maker as it starts the day, reminding me of rhythms.
The delicious scent of my sweet baby's neck, which if I kiss just right, sends David into fits of giggles and laughter, that reminds me to rejoice in the simple being here, in the right now.
The smile on Ben's face as he finishes his math. He drinks it in, those numbers. He loves to tell me how it fits together, how many of this and that. I smile and remind him and myself that the God who made those numbers will always be True, always add up.
Isaiah jubilantly shouting lyrics of much loved hymns from the back seat of the car- this one truly understands the joy of the Lord, and reminds me to just sing and praise!
The lisping, happy speech of Lorelei, as she blesses each of us: "pitty mommy", "lovey daddy", "ooo a tay Ben?" (You ok, Ben?). She makes us want our speech to be honorable and honey-like.
Did I mention David's smile?
For the strong, soft arms of my husband, as he has sheltered me in the emotional upheaval of this last month. I am so safe there. So many prayers has he whispered into my hair as I have grieved.
For friends, new and old.
Friends with whom you've just met, but you talk well into the wee hours of the morning, like long lost sisters. Who challenge you and remind you to put on the armor of righteousness and gird your loins with His truth.
Friends who share your loves…friends whom you've prayed for, for nearly eight years. Prayers answered. And prayers answered in ways so far and above anything you could possibly imagined, that you know that their coming is a gift only from God's hand.
I've caught myself a few times. I get rough, sharp. Angry a bit. And then the old song whispers through my cluttered, broken thoughts:
name them one by one,
count your blessings,
see what God has done."
It is changing my life. He is changing my life. He is changing my blindness into sight. Blessed indeed.