I have woken many mornings to the sound of my alarm clock piercing the night...or at least that's how it seems. Despite the lack of sunlight, the reality sets in that it is time to face the day. Tired before I begin, flailing for a splash of cold water to the face, and a cup of hot coffee to my lips. All is well in my life and family: healthy bodies, happy marriage, food on the table, jobs, a house, cars and a two-car garage. I can easily count high my blessings, but on these days something else takes over me. I joke that coffee is my lifeblood, and occasionally worry that it's true. The long list of 'to do's' wraps me tightly in it's grip, a gnawing self-doubt in my gut, the deep dread of another day of failure. Failure to meet a self-imposed standard of perfection. I add the unfinished 'to do's' to tomorrow's list, making it even more unmanageable. I crawl into bed, grateful for the respite, fight anxiety as I toss and turn, and I remember my God. He meets me in my frenzy and reminds me of my identity and worth. I accept and forgive my "failure" and fall asleep well-intentioned that tomorrow will be different, more intentioned and meaningful and eternal; less hurried and more present and pure. I'll make a shorter list, have my quiet time first, do something for myself, take a nap. But the alarm clock sounds, like a starting-line gunshot, and the race and impending failure begin again. I know there has to be more. I have woken many days this way.
A dear friend challenged me to record a joy at the end of each day, a gift, something I'm grateful for. Soon after I began, I sensed the transformation that could come from a heart of gratitude. Even for a moment, I reflected differently on the things I had done, the people I'd seen, the beauty I'd encountered. It became more and more difficult to choose a favorite. The list of gifts from the day overwhelmed me. Even though I continued to wake forgetting each morning, I remembered on most evenings, and each time my heart swelled with wonder. How many gifts from the Lord had I missed? How many was I missing all day long? How great is my God that in my stopping, even for a moment, to record my favorite thing of my day, that my heart nearly bursts from my chest? I attempt to capture in a few words His unbridled pursuit of my heart, and I cannot. How majestic is He who woos me all day with cardinals on my deck, charmed giggles of toddlers, a twinkle in my husband's eye, and even a traffic jam that gives me a moment to breathe? Soon after I began this journey of gratitude, slow and broken as it has been, a good friend recommended to me a book that I'm sure many of you have read: One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp. It captured me, enthralled me, as I got to peer into the author's life and see her story of moment-by-moment notice of God's gifts. She has discovered a way to be grateful for God's constant pursuit, in all circumstances, and it has transformed her life. I long for her wisdom, discipline, consistency. But I'm thankful to have tasted gratitude in a new way - in a way that changes my whole day. I still wake up in a frenzy on more days than not, but God is pursuing my heart and summoning me to take respite in him while I work, mother, pursue, relate, train, launder, clean, drive, struggle. Though I am far from mastering the skill, it has been a sweet exercise to reflect on my day and remember to be thankful. The journey has renewed my eyes to see where the Lord is moving in and around me, and the amazing things he is doing all the time.
