A dear friend gave me a copy of Ann Voskamp’s One Thousand Gifts earlier this year, and while my multiple-books-at-a-time habit has kept me from finishing it just yet, I’ve been reading a chapter here and there in the months since. Ann’s discipline of recording God’s gifts inspired me to do the same. I’ve been woefully inconsistent about writing in the gratitude journal I started, but this month’s writing project feels like an extension of it in some way.
I love photography. Maybe even more than I love writing, if I’m being really honest. It’s not something I’ve ever desired to pursue as a profession; it’s a hobby. It’s something I do for me, something I’ve been doing since I was a child with a Polaroid, snapping pictures of my dolls and stuffed animals lined up against the wall or propped up by throw pillows. Continue reading “Day 17: Freezing time”
Thank you God for praying. Thank you for beds. And thank you God for all the orange juice and cheese pops. And thank you for your clothes. I just love your clothes. And thank you God for Batman. And thank you God for Jesus.
Daisy is three and a half. Her bedtime prayers often go on… and on… and on. And I should really start recording them, because they are pure gold. Continue reading “Day 16: For cheese pops and Batman”
I didn’t intend to write this today. But sometimes paying attention means letting yourself remember.
Today, October 15th, is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. It’s not a day I keep on my calendar. I’m not even sure I’ve ever mentioned it before.
I’ve touched on our miscarriage in writing—here, here, and most recently here. It’s not a story I’ve documented in full though, I’m only just now realizing. It feels better suited for sharing quietly with other women in person with tears and coffee, too raw to surprise unsuspecting readers with in a blog post. Continue reading “Day 15: Awareness”
They turn on PBS Kids with the TV at its lowest volume. The older one at least understands that grown-ups prefer sleeping in on the weekends.
They’re gentlest with each other first thing in the morning, wedging their little bodies onto the same couch cushion underneath a shared blankie.
I hear them making little noises and scoot down under the comforter in response, wondering how many more minutes I can get away with before one of them appears at my bedside with some urgent need. Continue reading “Day 14: Saturday morning”
It’s not uncommon for me to share something on a specific topic here one day and be challenged in that exact area the next—a clear-as-day reminder that anything worthwhile that gets tapped out on this keyboard isn’t mine to claim. If it’s good, if it’s true, if it speaks to you, it’s not me—it’s Him.
Don’t be deceived, my dear brothers and sisters. Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. (James 1:16-17)
I should have that written down somewhere I can’t miss it. Continue reading “Day 12: Failure to look”
There are days I squint and search to find what’s good. It’s there, it’s always there—but I have to make a conscious decision to acknowledge it.
But there are other days good is all around me, and it’s all-up-in-my-face, can’t-miss-it obvious.
Today was one of those days. Today I saw good—I saw God—all over the place. Continue reading “Day 11: When it’s easy to see what’s good”
I know I’m behind on kitchen upkeep when there are no butter knives left in the silverware drawer. It always seems like we have more butter knives than anything else. I’m one of those heathens who prefers to cut my food with the side of my fork over bothering with a knife, so perhaps that’s why. (Don’t tell my mom.)
The dirty dishes multiply awfully quick around here, considering there are only four of us. I tell myself it’s because the kitchen is small and there’s not enough counter space, but who am I kidding? The kitchen is a mess because I avoid cleaning it.
In fact, at this moment, I’m sitting at the dining table with my laptop open, in a seat I’ve chosen specifically because when I sit just so, the kitchen chaos is hidden from my line of sight. It’s nice over here. This table is cleared off save for a fresh bouquet from Trader Joe’s and this morning’s coffee cup.
I fight the slip into resentfulness when the time comes to clean up, wipe down, put away clutter my children and husband leave in their wake. This is, of course, completely ridiculous, because I am the Queen of making messes and then abandoning them until a tipping point is reached—for example, running out of clean underwear. Or butter knives.
I sometimes forget that this work matters, but worse, I forget the magnitude of what these chores represent—all I have been given and who has given it to me. Continue reading “Day 10: Dishes and gratitude”