Tonight I ate broccoli of my own free will and it was good. It's etched in my brain the day the green tasted good. As I swallowed surprise that broccoli I liked pride rose fierce, "I'll never tell um." I double crossed, stomped and firmly declared I'd never, ever, ever like broccoli. Sheepishly the truth came out, "I like broccoli." Family called it right, I'd learn to like it twenty plus years later.
Tonight is Monday and I often type out numbers tallying the thanks. It is easy the plating of dessert and the licking of the spoon. Flowers parading at driveways end are happy and cheery and easy comes the thanks. Yet, to double dip a triple scoop of ice cream when the world begs hungry seems shameful, prideful, arrogant, flaunting, even. Yet, I am learning slowly, learning that thanks, true thanks, Christ fueled thanks is in every morsel, in every bite.
Giving thanks in all, even in the starved and famished seems a more impossible plight than broccoli sliding down content. On this Monday night my plate is empty and honest truth is I fear what will be dished for me to eat. Or worse, how do I help myself to a double portion of dessert, when the world howls hungry? And I don't know. Life is always serving up portions and how often not fair ones.
Broccoli remnants on the plate distraught with disgust, sometimes mercy came and they would eat it for me. Grateful for His grace to do what I cannot and even more that He's patient as I learn to say thanks for all.
1,000 gifts the book is naked, raw honesty and beautiful. It's Ann Voskamp's story of learning thanks. The candy shop thanks and the bitter root thanks. It's climbed best-seller high and rightly so, because her word's lift high to the only one who can teach us to live empty and hungry, yet full. Read it.
528. for this post
529. for broccoli
530. for the impossible becoming thanks
531. for the Great I am covering all I am not
532. for Him who IS