THANK YOU

Over a decade ago, a friend gave me a copy of Ann Voskamp's book One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are. Thus began my journey of recording daily small gifts to develop and strengthen the discipline of gratitude.

As I engaged with Ann's book all those years ago, I wrote this: "Ann began a study of prayers of thankfulness in Scripture. What she found surprised her. Prayers of sincere gratitude were often recorded in the midst of - or just preceding - great trial or distress. This puzzled her. Ann's study - and her resolution to fill a notebook with '1,000 gifts' - led her to discover that she had been understanding joy backwards. She had thought that joy came first, that true gratitude and thankfulness to God were based on, were the fruit of, his tangible blessings in this world. On the contrary, Ann found that it is thankfulness that produces joy." (You can read an ancient post about "One Thousand Gifts" HERE.)

Fast forward, oh, five or six years. Another friend gifted me blank journal and challenged me to "write down five things each day you are thankful for." I already had a "thankful notebook," so I decided to use the new journal to record instances of the clear hand of God in my daily life.

Things like a flat tire on a busy four-lane highway, a prayer for help, and the immediate arrival of a family member - "I thought that looked like you!" - who cheerfully changed the tire in less than 15 minutes.

Things like a fearful plea that God would get me safely to my destination on my first-ever solo international flight, which required changing planes in a foreign country - and the young man who sat in front of me on the airplane leaving Chicago, who, after brief conversation, exclaimed, "Oh, I am going to Kigali, too! We have the same connecting flight in Brussels. Stay with me, Auntie, and I will get you exactly where you need to be!" His name was Immanuel.

Ten+ years after reading One Thousand Gifts, I no longer log small gifts daily into a spiral notebook, and that first journal documenting God's interventions and provision is tucked between other journals on a shelf. Thankfulness today has become much more a way of thinking than an exercise with pen and paper.

I am a morning person, typically waking long before my alarm sounds as the sky fades from black to deep indigo. Used to, my first thought of the day was worry as cares of the coming day crashed in on me before my eyes were even fully open. Nowadays, my first thought is usually, "Thank you."

Thank you, Father, for the glittering morning star.

Thank you for light rising on the eastern horizon.

Thank you for this quiet moment before the day begins.

Thank you for the Carolina Wren singing outside my window.

"Thank you" has become a morning routine, a habit. It's just what happens when I wake up.

And for that, I am so very thankful indeed.

* * * * *

"Thank you" - these are literally the first words that pop into my mind when I wake up most mornings. (Oh, to be clear, I will have much less pleasant thoughts as the day progresses, but the day really does typically start with "Thank you.")

About a month ago, something very weird happened: I woke to an entirely different thought. Thank you has become so "normal" that when this different phrase popped into my slowly waking mind, it startled me.

I blinked. I looked around the room, wondering if someone else had spoken, but no one was there. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

Again, clear as wren song: "I love you."

I hardly dared to breathe. Who had spoken? Where had this come from?

I never figured out if "I love you" was spoken from my heart to God - I do love him - or if it was spoken from my Father to me, but I eventually decided to settle on the latter. Perhaps it was both.

Thank you, Father. Thank you.