I pre-ordered Ann Voskamp’s book, One Thousand Gifts, after reading her blog nearly a year ago. And before I finished the second chapter I began recording those thankful in the hurried moments throughout the day.
After hearing Ann speak at a conference last weekend, I came home energized, eager to encourage my children to do the same.
The next day we sat around the kitchen table, white lined sheets staring back at us, waiting to be filled.
I’m finding emptying out gratitude is easier on some days than others. I witness it as I watch my son and daughter mull over flimsy spiral notebooks, pencils tapping and eyes wandering. They’ve written the obvious, they are thankful for their home and each other, their health and their grandparents, their church and our harebrained dog, Caroline.
I stare at my own red leather journal of thankfulness. And the words don’t spill. They don’t pour out onto the page. Instead what gushes out naturally is:
the air conditioning in our van is out … again
the roses in my flowerbeds are dying an untimely death
another school year is looming and I question if I have what it takes to teach those same subjects all over again
This is what the spring of my soul flows fluid.
I say it aloud to my children, but more so for myself. “Thankfulness is a choice that we stroll past or we pause to appreciate.”
We’re learning this lesson together. And for that I am thankful.