Sometimes thankfulness is big, and loud and proud. It might be accompanied by cards, flowers and public proclamation. It might make our chests expand with pride, and our cheeks redden with humble acceptance.
Then, there are the other times when it’s barely a whisper, said under an autumn sky, with only the company of leaves blowing from the trees and across the grass.
The later was my experience of giving thanks this past Thanksgiving Monday.
At almost 3:00 in the afternoon, I was still wearing my pyjamas, but the scent of the turkey in my oven was beginning to waft out and into the house. The table was set for seven. Vegetables were ready to be cooked, appys were ready to be heated and the house was cleaned.
All that was left to do was … plant the bulbs that had been sitting in a container on my counter for about two months (who does this in the midst of preparing a turkey dinner?).
So outside I went (in my pjs), sat down on the steps, and proceeded to plant the bulbs in an awaiting planter.
Then I looked up.
And the cloudless, indigo sky took my breath away.
And the sun was shining on my face.
And the leaves were floating through the air.
And the wind lightly caressed my face.
And,
I gave thanks.
No announcements, no microphone, no eloquent words, or poetic reference,
I. just. gave. thanks.
From, not just the bottom, but the entirety of my heart.
The beauty of the Creator, reflected in the beauty of his creation.
The blessing of my senses, intended to draw my focus back to him.
The simplest, most mundane and undervalued of life, took the breath of life from my lungs momentarily, only to refill them with the freshest, most life-giving, soul-feeding inhalation.
just. give. thanks.
O praise Him! O praise Him!
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!
itsawonderfilledlife 