Wednesday, March 18, 2015

Blessing Two

There are days when I simply have no energy to think of blessings to count. There are days when I cannot find my smile. There are days . . . . well, you probably know what I mean. Sick or exhausted or over whelmed by the to-do list.

That's when I forget to say or think or whisper

Tuesday was one of those days.
      I dragged out of bed at 7 a.m. to help Daughter get ready for her twice a week school for special needs adults. While she dressed, I poured another cup of coffee, looked at the day's schedule, and sighed.  Maybe it was more like a growl. My ole Restless Legs had kept me up, litterally most of the night and a fierce pain pounded in my head. 

      Daughter came in, dressed for her day and a special outing the school had planned. Sunshine filled the kitchen and I could only mumble 'thank you, thank you, oh my thank you'.
My beautiful Gift, dressed for Living Well College class outing
in the school's new tee shirt.

Thank you, Father, that you chose me to be the mother of this remarkable and beautiful and delightful woman who must struggle for the smallest of daily activities but who never gives up. Thank you for the sunshine and joy and abundant love she adds to every single one of my days.

Tuesday, March 17, 2015

Today, my soul is that little hummingbird getting free, life-sustaining nourishment just by drinking from the pen of Gratitude. After all, He provided the nectar; all I have to do is drink. 

Monday, March 16, 2015

Thanksgivings Begin Again

Ten months ago I stopped taking time to write down my praises and thanksgivings. I stopped putting them into print.
Why?  I bowed to the dailyness of life. My caregiver role increased and my time and energy decreased. Gradually, I picked up my pen less and less.

Oh well, my thankful spirit is fairly natural and relatively strong so, if I thought about it at all, I’m sure I assumed I could keep my grateful heart without INTENTIONALLY LISTING thanksgivings. You know:  in writing.

My husband's health quickly spiraled downward and my adult daughter with special needs went through a period of additional health challenges.

I was IT.
      Time evaporated.

I don't think I stopped being grateful; there was just too much to do.
Oh ---- and, I am no longer young. Or strong. Or healthy.
The pressure, the stress, the endless to-dos bore down on me. Excuses took hold. Suddenly I got seriously, physically ill.

In addition, I felt, emotionally, just like that old house on our property:

Empty. Dilapidated. Decaying. Weather worn., Forgotten.
The old house surrounded by bare trees and dry weeds and the
old barn that is literally falling down.

It sits alone with nobody to care or repair or visit or water its dead grass.

Yesterday, while sitting in a dark pit, exhausted, I clicked aimlessly through the internet and stumbled (! ? ! ?) onto Shari Dacon's blog on: Writing One Thousand Gifts.
I read. And reread. And remembered.
I found my pen.
     The words flowed like a gushing well. Words of praise and thanksgiving. More. And more.
I wrote each blessing. Intentionally. Many blessings.
    Those many but little repairs and those big projects that God had continued to do.
            All that nourishment for my soul.
                     Those sunsets and gorgeous moons.
                          Those countless loving things our children do to help, to care, to water.
All those mundane life-sustaining blessings our family pours onto us.
            All those thoughtful gestures and prayers offered by friends.

Things that my Holy Father sends to me.
To my family.
To my care receivers.

Today, I smile. 

And I keep going.

And I will continue to write them down.
I will post my blessings. Hopefully others will be encouraged.

“I’m grateful. I am blessed.”

                       Do you write your blessings?

Then we your people, the sheep of your pasture, will PRAISE you forever; from generation to generation we will PROCLAIM your praise.    (Psalm 79:13)

Love from Liz