In This Moment

If there's one thing the year 2007 taught me, it's that opportunities to worry and wallow in pity abound.

And there are lots of chances to ask God, Why?

One day a few weeks after returning home with Aubrey, I had a meltdown in my kitchen after dinner. It didn't make sense to have a meltdown right then because we'd had a lovely dinner as a family, the house was lit up with candles, three children were snuggled in the family room with pajamas on and watching a movie, and Daniel was talking with me as I washed dishes. But even in that "perfect" moment-- the kind I only imagined as a young girl-- something was very imperfect, for in the other room lay a sleeping baby whose heart is wrong.

I just never knew life would be this hard... this sad... this worrisome... this full of heartache and fear and sorrow, I wept. And Daniel didn't tell me that it wasn't hard or sad or worrisome, because right then it was and it had been for quite some time. But he reminded me that Somebody did know that it would be hard, even when I didn't. That's why He told us-- in advance-- that He had overcome the world.

The truth is that for as many chances as there are to ask God why, there are even more chances to fall at His feet in gratitude, because His mercy and grace truly has broken through the muck and mire and filled our lives with goodness.

In 2007 I had lots of opportunities to practice 1 Thessalonians 5:18; to learn the will of God for me afresh. In everything, it says, give thanks. In the precious, laughter-filled, blessed-beyond-measure moments. In the lonely, discouraged, frightened moments. And in the everything in-between or beyond moments.

Again today I looked more closely for the abounding reasons to rejoice and to marvel at the blessing in my life. Truly, the goodness I experience is so much more than an in spite of sickness and possible heart failure and the first signs of thrush. My life is so rich with His mercy that the troubles I face actually fade away the minute I look to Him, the Cross, and eternity.

Today, I am thankful for a great home. Do you know that I love my house? Probably, because I really do and I say it all the time. It's true the kitchen isn't very big and there aren't any gardens yet and the toilets run and occasional mice run up and down inside our bedroom wall (yes, right behind where our heads lay, as a matter of fact), but even if none of those things ever change, I love this house. I love that it represents a God who is faithful to His word to us.

I'm thankful for cheesy four-year-old jokes and light saber fights and drawings that can't be numbered. I'm thankful for the temporarily missing but now restored laughter of a little girl with big blue eyes and an even bigger grin. I'm thankful for how excited a toddler can get over sandwiches and apples. I'm thankful for baby toes and baby smiles.

I'm thankful for the safe and warm childhood I had. I'm thankful for the same for my own children.

I'm thankful for relatives who don't really care that the Christmas thank-you cards I made last week still haven't been filled out and put in the mail. I'm thankful for a sister who tells me all the time that she's praying for Aubrey and for a dad who asks me how I'm doing like he really wants to know every time I talk to him-- even if he's really calling for Daniel.

The most amazing thing about giving thanks is that once started, I don't ever want to stop. My heart gets fuller and fuller with each realization of how good God is to me. And suddenly my life is changed. The premonition of a sleepless night, the fret that was creeping into my mind and thoughts, the doubts about decisions made, and the situations that are so easily overwhelming all take on a much more manageable tone.

My God is big. And He is good. And though I live in a fallen world, and though sin and the brokenness of sin is all around me, trying to taunt me and scare me and trap me, Jesus has overcome the world. Not only will His love prevail, it is prevailing. In everything. In this moment.

And so we are able to give thanks in everything.