For a little while now, I’m joining some friends to celebrate gratitude every Friday.
Today, a bullet poem:
At the end of this string of weekdays, I breathe hello to Friday and remember gratefulness.
Some say that it’s the thing that holds us together, this practice of looking at the world and saying we’re glad to be a part of it.
So I gather my seven gratitudes, seven expressions of hope.
- I count two little heads that sleep beneath covers at night, the two boys that I get to spend my days learning beside. They illuminate every darkness.
- The redwing blackbirds visit, daily placing their silhouettes against our bright blue skies, surprising us with their always-togetherness. Family.
- Dreams, the kind that entertain- Obama singing along with Mumford at an awards show- Dreams, the kind that prophesy and teach, remind and restore.
- Worship, the breathing room kind that meets outside religion’s walls, that calls me back to God in the middle of everything that is life. Worship is a beckoning, and we would be wise to let her otherness bring us together, especially in these weary days.
- In that moment just last week, I said to a friend that I don’t read the Bible much– spoken word– a prayer issued to God, a bible brought to my mailbox yesterday from a far-off friend, accompanied by a bar of dark chocolate. This far-off friend, who once kissed me on the forehead and called me loved. A Bible and a bar of dark chocolate commissioned with the words, “We long for your company with the love of God.”
- In process of good work, we as what good work means. Does it mean to breathe without worry, to look in another’s eyes without conflict, to practice empathy in every way? Progress in book writing and song writing, worship leading and teaching, learning and re-learning; a real-life book in the works with a real-life deadline and a real-life release date, and I think that this good work is what I’m made of for now.
- Grateful that the future belongs to the enduring space of shalom? Absolutely.