Giving Thanks
It's nice to be thankful, and I admit that while I am thankful for much, I am not thankful often enough. Sure, it's easy to be thankful for the big things in life: health, family, Christ. It's easy to be thankful for enough money to live on, or to have a car that works and a nice home to live in. And I am so very thankful for those.
But it's harder to be thankful for the small things, the things that can easily escape our notice if we aren't careful.
The sound of the car of a loved one pulling in the drive, signaling an upsurge of activity in the house.
Bare feet running through the house and thundering up the stairs when I'm tired or not feeling well.
Boo-boos that need kissing and tears that need wiping when my hands are preparing a meal.
Dust that I can't keep up with on beloved pictures and furniture and hardwood floors.
Embers and ash on the hearth from last night's cheery fire, spilling onto the rug.
A serviceable bathroom full of properly plumbed fixtures that needs cleaning.
Leaves blowing into the house on the heels of children full of laughter.
Reading a book that I have read aloud 100 times, one more time.
A man who isn't afraid of dirty dishes or putting family first.
Music flowing from an out of tune piano but sounds great.
Friends that know they need not knock on our door.
Pencils, artwork and paper strewn everywhere.
The eyes of my children reflecting their dad.
The way cranberries pop when they cook.
The hum of the washer and dryer.
Two children conversing.
All of it, all of it can cause thankfulness, if I am paying attention. It's all there, under all the work and cleaning and cooking, under all the books and school and laundry. Like buried treasure, it all waits to be discovered, And sometimes I am fortunate and am moving slowly enough to find it.
But it's harder to be thankful for the small things, the things that can easily escape our notice if we aren't careful.
The sound of the car of a loved one pulling in the drive, signaling an upsurge of activity in the house.
Bare feet running through the house and thundering up the stairs when I'm tired or not feeling well.
Boo-boos that need kissing and tears that need wiping when my hands are preparing a meal.
Dust that I can't keep up with on beloved pictures and furniture and hardwood floors.
Embers and ash on the hearth from last night's cheery fire, spilling onto the rug.
A serviceable bathroom full of properly plumbed fixtures that needs cleaning.
Leaves blowing into the house on the heels of children full of laughter.
Reading a book that I have read aloud 100 times, one more time.
A man who isn't afraid of dirty dishes or putting family first.
Music flowing from an out of tune piano but sounds great.
Friends that know they need not knock on our door.
Pencils, artwork and paper strewn everywhere.
The eyes of my children reflecting their dad.
The way cranberries pop when they cook.
The hum of the washer and dryer.
Two children conversing.
All of it, all of it can cause thankfulness, if I am paying attention. It's all there, under all the work and cleaning and cooking, under all the books and school and laundry. Like buried treasure, it all waits to be discovered, And sometimes I am fortunate and am moving slowly enough to find it.
Love this...you nailed it!
ReplyDelete