Blessings To Be Counted

Thanks, Lord, for everything…

For songs that seem to have eavesdropped on the mumbling secrets of my heart;

for Calvary and all the freedom and love it granted me once I accepted it;

Mondays that don’t feel like Mondays;

the carefree joy of riding my hand through invisible waves from my car window while I’m driving;

all the stuff I understand, have yet to, and maybe never will while still on Earth;

when I can hear someone smile over the phone;

for leaves that prove it’s never too late in life to change and become brilliant;

scars, both emotional and physical, which have all taught me valuable lessons;

words which burrow into the richest soil of our souls;

eyes that twinkle and beg to tell their tales;

the smell of musty, old books and the promises they whisper of escape and enlightenment;

when You’ve reminded me that life isn’t about me or the tasks I cross off each day;

for the unspoken words, the meanings between lines;

the color green when it’s painted on trees and mountains and lush hillsides and the moss surrounding waterfalls;

genuine, all-in hugs;

that early morning, comforting cup of coffee;

when silent prayers become public answers;

for round, brown puppy eyes that think the world of me;

the mesmerizing, infinite sea of stars which simultaneously humbles me and awakens the explorer in me, too;

post-workout endorphin boosts;

a complex and intricate language to communicate and express our most simplest thoughts;

underdogs and their stories;

the muse that consumes me and convinces me to write;

when people’s countenances come alive as they speak of their greatest passions;

for family and folks and friends I don’t deserve;

laughter and all the times and reasons to let it out;

busy schedules and jam-packed days;

the privilege to attend church, worship, and pray openly without fear;

those moments I’ve felt an inexplicable, instant spark of connection and understanding with someone;

when someone says I inspire them;

for warm meals made with love that feed more than just my stomach;

the smell of rain…and the sound of it…and the way it washes and drenches everything in soft grays;

summer berries and winter squash, autumn apples and delicate spring blooms;

the restless roar of the ocean and the way it calls to the human restlessness within me;

a little home that I can call my own, and all else that has been provided for me;

when a sermon so timely speaks directly to my thoughts and my situation;

for adventures, the journeys that lead to them, and every photograph, experience, and memory which accompany them;

for the small things and the great;

for both the good and not so good;

for what I remember and what I have forgotten;

for the successes and the progress and the incomplete or to-be-continued, too;

for everything that has uplifted me–for all that hurt me but didn’t break me;

for Your eyes to help me admire the beauty in the imperfections of this human life;

God, I thank You.

1 Chronicles 16:8, “Give thanks unto the Lord, call upon his name, make known his deeds among the people.”

Soldier’s Pass Trail, Sedona, Arizona