HORN OF PLENTY-TO-BE-THANKFUL-FOR

Thanksgiving—yes, it's “cornucopia” time, with the cone-shaped decor stuffed with leaves and autumn leaves or fruits brought out of storage for this season. So named for its cone shape (duh!), some sources say its use dates even to the Bronze Age (3300-1200 B.C.). Back then, of course, it had nothing to do with “Thanksgiving” as we know it. Instead, “cornucopias” were broken off-animal horns.

The name derives from the Latin cornu (for “horn”) and copia (for “plenty”). Word-origin tales include two from Greek mythology. One says the baby Zeus accidentally broke off the horn of a goat that nursed him. As the tale goes, the horn provided divine, unending nourishment. The other myth concerns Zeus's offspring Hercules, who broke off the horn of a river god. Somehow in the detours that myths take, the “horn” became a symbol of an abundant harvest.

Fast track through more history, and the Vikings, Germanic tribes, Celts and Romans began using horns as drinking utensils. Eventually man-crafted horn-like drinking vessels emerged, made of ivory and embellished with gold, silver and enamel. Out in the fields, the curved cone shape morphed into a strapped basket that hung from the shoulders of harvest workers. (I can just imagine its practicality for crops like grapes and other fruit.) Advance to our times, when the cornucopia is typically reserved for November decorations, filled with autumn leaves, nuts, miniature pumpkins and gourds.

So, yes, I dug out our decades-old cornucopia for display this November. I also recalled how for many years another November “tradition” at our home was a family “thankful box.” This was a square facial tissue box onto which I glued autumn-motif fabric. I put it on the table with scraps of paper and a pencil. All month, family members were to fill it with notes about what they were thankful for. On Thanksgiving evening, we emptied the “box” and read aloud the notes. It was a wonderful way to practice the scriptural admonition:

In everything give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you. --1 Thessalonians 5:18 (KJV).

Alas, in our times, we rush through the “cornucopia” season to the buy-buy-buy season. The day after Thanksgiving is known as “black Friday” for the frantic search for holiday bargains ahead of Christmas. Such frenzy stands in contrast to the simple message that the cornucopia symbolizes. The best things aren't on sale racks. They're in the simple provision of daily sustenance that comes from the heart and hand of our generous God. Thanksgiving-time “thankfulness” should recalibrate our hearts for the December-celebrated, supreme reason for “thankfulness”: a Savior, Christ the Lord.

WHEN GRATITUDE'S HARD...

My baby photo--probably one year old....
My name means "God is gracious."

One discipline my parents tried to instill in me was gratitude, my childhood lessons happening around birthdays and Christmas. Before too many days ticked away, I was to sit down and write a thank-you note that “gifted” the “gifter” with appreciation for their effort and thoughtfulness. In the long-range view, this was more than an etiquette thing, especially when the gift we opened was, well, disappointing to a young child. Maybe the gift was socks instead of a new toy. Or an ugly sweater instead of that “cool outfit” everybody else was wearing. Such “thank-you” notes were basic training for bigger things—like trusting God for life's unwelcome turns.

Friends who shared my grief in my husband's recent death helped me see “thanks” in a new way with their sympathy gift of a book, Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy* by Mark Vroegop, a pastor and conference speaker from Indianapolis. My husband's packed memorial service, the kind words, the hugs, the baskets of cards, the meals—all brought comfort. But they didn't address the ache in my heart that asked, Why him? Why now? What next?

Long ago I'd memorized Psalm 46:10, “Be still and know that I am God.” Grief—times of silence and stillness--tested me to the core. It also sent me deeper into scriptures, with this book as a helpful guide.

Vroegop wrote from his own deep pain of holding his just-born but lifeless nine-pound daughter. His and his wife's heartbreak in this inexplicable loss eventually led him to understanding Biblical “lament,” a different emotion from what we understand as “sorrow.” Lament, he said, “is how you live between a hard life and God's promises. It is how we learn to sing and worship when suffering comes our way” (p. 84).

How many years had I read and studied psalms without realizing the “sad ones” had messages for my own sorrows? Vroegop described these “lament psalms” as ways to “turn to God in prayer, lay out our complaints, ask boldly, and choose to trust.” It's not gritting-one's-teeth and thinking somehow you'll get through this. It's banking on the Bible's promises and God's character to learn and grow through pain. It's forging through mourning platitudes to God-directed gratitude.

I'm still on this journey. It actually began decades ago when my parents died six months apart the year I was 31. Then still single, I was tasked with the emptying their home. I tried to be brave, do the “post-death” work. But I didn't grieve well. I'm trusting God to show me renewed hope and healing as I embrace scripture's “lament” passages in fresh ways. To be able to say thank you, even from a broken heart.

*Mark Vroegop, Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy (Wheaton: Crossway, 2019, 223 pages)

GRATITUDE ATTITUDE

Maybe it was their childhood of growing up in the Depression, when you learned to be thankful for everything, but gratitude was one character quality my parents tried to instill in me and my sister. We hadn't experienced the death of a parent nor extreme economic deprivations, as they had. But we were taught to be appreciative. One discipline connected to that was saying “thank you” and writing “thank-you notes.”

I tried to instill that in my kids, especially at gift-time. Even when they were too young to write, I encouraged them to draw a picture of the item and coached them on signing their names. With maturity came an expansion of what to be thankful for. Not just material gifts, but also the intangibles like the love, family connections, and hope that we have in Jesus Christ. Whenever I encounter a bitter person, I wonder, what would happen if they sat down and starting writing a thankful list. Would it open their eyes to the poverty of their life outlook?

G.K. Chesterton (1874-1936), an English apologist, literary/art critic, and author (also known for influencing fantasy writers C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien), toward the end of his life tried to express his most important life lesson. He decided it was this: whether we take things for granted or take them with gratitude.

Of that, Christian pastor and author Gary Inrig, in his study of Jesus' parables, remarked that when people live with a sense of entitlement instead of gratitude, such attitudes grow thin with those around them. In contrast, living out overflowing thankfulness is a prime clue to one's relationship with God. He explained: "When gratitude is lacking, grace has either not been received or not been understood. The state of our relationship with God is revealed clearly by our gratitude towards him."(1)

Not surprising, the etymology (word derivation) of “gratitude” is the Latin gratus, meaning “thankful, pleasing, agreeable.”

Every year I try to choose a focus word for the year. I post it at the bottom of my computer screen as a daily reminder of that quality. This year's word may be a repeat, but it's “gratitude.” Last year was tough with my husband's final illness and death. But even through that journey and its aftermath, the support of friends and loved ones has reminded me: be grateful in words, actions, and prayer. Quietly, through these choices, we'll sense the hug of God.

(1) Gary Inrig, The Parables: Understanding What Jesus Meant (Discovery House, 1991), pp. 45-46.

ATTITUDE OF GRATITUDE

A visual reminder of a famous quote: "The
fragrance remains in the hand that gave the rose."

Have you recently endured (to paraphrase a classic children’s book) a horrible, terrible, no-good very bad day? Such are times that we chafe a bit at Bible verses that command us to be thankful. You know, like this:

Give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus. (1 Thessalonians 5:17-18)

That doesn’t leave much room for griping about people, problems, pressures, or other perturbing things of life. Impossible? We might think so. And then we run into people who live on a higher standard and inspire us. One was my former pastor, who married us 41 years ago and recently died just after turning ninety. Yes, ninety. At his memorial, his daughter shared that she’d found some of his old journals, dating back nearly forty years. Every day he had written down things for which he was thankful to the Lord. Thousands of thankful items! And that included the difficult, discouraging years of caring at home for his wife, who slipped away slowly of dementia.

All circumstances.

Impossible, except with God’s help, and trust that He knows the bigger picture.

I’ve been around Major Worriers in my lifetime and have to admit to being one myself. But I’m chastised when I read God’s command: “Do not be anxious about anything” (Philippians 4:6).  Right after the command, the “how”:

….but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.

Some Biblical clues on nurturing that “attitude of gratitude”:

“He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” (1 Cor. 15:57)

“For He is good, His love endures forever.” (1 Chronicles 16:34)

“From Him and through Him and for him are all things. To Him be the glory forever!” (Romans 11:36)

I could cite more verses, but maybe the compelling image is the vision John had of what happens in heaven:

“I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and on the sea, and all that is in them, saying: ‘To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be praise and honor and glory and power, for ever and ever!” (Revelation 5:13)

With worshipping angels as role models, what more can I say? Except—to be grateful for the earthly role models that God has placed in my life…like a faithful, devoted pastor who, every day, expressed in his own handwriting his gratitude to God.

SIMPLY

They're powerful words for a culture smitten with more...and more. “Live simply. Be grateful.” I spotted this sign in a gift shop for a small tourist attraction in central Washington. By “small,” I mean seasonal and certainly no Disneyland. It included a few home-brew “attractions” like a corn maze, jumping pit, a basic farm animals “zoo,” and old barrels turned into wheeled kiddy cars pulled by a tractor. But it was enough to charm our little granddaughter, who turned four that day. Her family lives 200 miles away but it could have been a thousand with nearly a year of being apart during the coronavirus pandemic. But that day we were grateful for our short reunion midway between our homes. Yes, we wore masks (hers featured “Frozen”-motif fabric, her current little-girl love) for the masked mini-party in the shelter of the gift shop.

There, amidst acres and acres of various farm crops, some of them mega-farms, I considered again the plaque's message of “live simply” and “be grateful.” These words from Proverbs came to mind: 

Two things I ask of you, O lord; do not refuse me before I die; Keep falsehood and lies far from me; Give me neither poverty nor riches, But give me only my daily bread. Otherwise I may have too much and disown you and say, “Who is the Lord?” (Proverbs 30:7-9)

One day a friend and I talked about contentment and the materialistic pull of our culture. As one example, how the computer changed our world. Forty years ago, they were an expensive novelty in homes. Now, they (and the tiny computers called “smart phones”) are considered “essential” for modern life. When you fill out a form, you're asked your E-mail address. You're told to “text” for something via your phone. (A disclaimer: our cell is old and doesn't text...and its monthly fee relatively cheap.) Computers helped us weather the pandemic's quarantines with virtual school and virtual work. It's now how our culture works. But that doesn't mean it has to dominate our lives. There is an “off” button, and a world outside.

I find the “essentials of life” given in these few verses of Proverbs very insightful. The writer wants these qualities in his life before it ends.

1. Honesty and transparency. “Keep falsehood and lies far from me.”

2. Enough for basic life. “Neither poverty nor riches.” “My daily bread.”

3. Gratitude to God for “enough.”

Our consumer-focused culture chafes at such advice. It preaches bigger and better. More and more aps. More and more television channels to entertain us. But God's way is “just enough.” If we have more than enough, we share, glad for the opportunity.

I didn't buy that sign, but it expressed my outlook. Less stuff. More gratitude. Spiritually as well as physically.

ON THE PLUS SIDE

What was that old saying, that a smile is just a frown turned around the right way? I agree, we've had plenty to frown about over the past year with the fears and horrors of the Covid-19 pandemic. As a “senior” with asthma, I have a target painted on my back (or is it the lungs?) for this scourge. At times, I get tired of all the confinement and precautions. But it's what we're called to do. Yet in the midst of all these negatives, there's another calling which might be called the “spiritual vaccination” for life's negatives. It's called “gratitude.”

I keep a file folder of “good stuff” I come across in my reading, thinking it might someday work into an article or blog. When cleaning off the desk lately (isn't everybody doing some sort of cleaning while confined?) I came across some wisdom about gratitude and having a positive attitude.

Gratitude begets gratitude, just as love begets love. So wrote the Dutch parish priest Henri J.M. Nouwen (1932-1996) in Life of the Beloved (Crossroads, 1992). He talked about working with institutionalized physically and mentally challenged people who had unfulfilled desires (like a life partner) and constant frustrations of needing assistance. Still, he said, they chose gratitude over bitterness. Little things meant a lot to them, like an invitation to dinner or being in community with people who offered friendship. In choosing gratitude over bitterness, they also inspired their caregivers. Nouwen added, “When we keep claiming the light we will find ourselves becoming more and more radiant. What fascinates me so much is that every time we decide to be grateful it will be easier to see new things to be grateful for. Gratitude begets gratitude, just as love begets love” (p. 62).

Focus on the good things in your life. That “prescription” came from Lisa Petsche, a clinical social worker, in an E-zine article. It's easy to be critical, she noted, when the world around us is pessimistic and the media focuses on disaster, failure, and discord. Proving true the saying that “misery loves company,” people join in, nurturing a negative outlook. The end result is stress that harms our physical and emotional well-being.

Some of her suggestions for nurturing a healing positive attitude:

*Limit media exposure.

*Use positive self-talk: “I can.” “I will.” “I choose.”

*Praise and encourage others.

*Humor yourself—with the newspaper comics, a hilarious sitcom, a fun book.

*Accept that some things you cannot change, but you can choose how to respond.

*Keep connected to caring people. Limit time with uncaring people and be forgiving.

*Have a “dump” place—a caring, trustworthy person or a private journal. (She didn't say so, but God's quite adept at handling our “dump times.”)

*Don't dwell on past mistakes or hurtful events.

*Do kind things for others.

*Put “quiet” into each day to nurture your spiritual life.

*Focus on positives: good relationships, the beauty of nature or art. Count blessings.(1)

If Henri Nouwen had studied her list, I'm sure he'd add this with the spiritual dimension, quoting the apostle Paul who wrote from a putrid prison: “Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again, Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near” (Philippians 4:4-5).

1. http://www.simplejoy.org/positive_attitude.htm (accessed Sept. 23, 2005, no longer online)

SIMPLE GRATITUDE

The busy bee is the black spot in the middle of the pink cluster.

The window outside my writing corner has quite a boring view: a weathered fence and the attic air vent of my neighbor’s home. The exception is May, when tall, decades-old rhododendrons burst out in glorious color. Even though the windowpane I can hear bees busily flying from one blossom to another. When I sit in a funk, unable to turn keystrokes into uplifting or helpful words, I remember that praise is the best antidote for a negative outlook. So I thank the Lord for the brilliant colors of these blossoms. The happy buzz of the bees. The water to nourish these plants. The changing skyline at the top of the window. Electronics that link me (and my writing) to the world. People who’ve affirmed me.

In his book Healing for Damaged Emotions, pastor-counselor David Seamands gave several practical suggestions for dealing with depression. Over the past year in this blog I worked through the 48 psalms he commended for study during “down” times. He also advocated developing a mindset of praise and thanksgiving. Such was one way that a saint of a previous century, Salvation Army leader Samuel Brengle, dealt with the depression that came to him from time to time. “When he couldn’t feel God’s presence or really pray,” Seamands wrote, “he would thank God for the leaf on the tree of the beautiful wing of a bird” (p. 129). That’s the principle of 1 Thessalonians 5:18, which many cite for expressing gratitude. Seamands remarked that Paul didn’t write the Thessalonians to “feel thankful for everything” but to “in everything give thanks.”

In agreement with that, another popular sign says “Cherish life’s simple treasures.”

The other day my grandsons were here at what should have been the toddler’s naptime. He’s a little guy who can be fussy about where he sleeps, his preference of course being his own crib. While my husband kept the 4- and nearly 6-year-olds busy, I took the 19-month-old into the bedroom where I had set up a folding playpen next to my rocker. Snug under a warm fleece blanket, he’d settled down and closed his eyes. His breathing said “asleep!” so I tried to move him into the playpen. Disaster. Part of the problem was the “comfort” nursing he gets at naptime from his own mom. His granny wasn’t up to that! So I ended up rocking him asleep for nearly two hours. I thought of David’s tender picture in describing spiritual contentment:
I do not concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me. But I have calmed and quieted myself. I am like a weaned child with its mother, like a weaned child I am content.(Psalm 131:1b-2)

Our culture promotes the bigger-and-better, wild-and-crazy, off-the-top. Just watch television’s quiz or daytime prize shows to see what people will do for vacations and “stuff.” Or hang around a convenience store advertised as having sold winning lottery tickets in the past.

Simple treasures that prompt thanksgiving aren’t the extravagant man-made entertainments and baubles. They’re the ordinary yet extraordinary gifts of God all around us. Even as simple as a bee buzzing into a blossom.

DOWNSIZING

Can “downsizing” be “uplifting”?  Well, it depends on who you talk to! These days you can either pare down to the minimum stuff that “brings you joy” (then fold it into an origami bird) or you dispose with abandon in “Swedish death cleaning”—before you die. Somewhere, there’s a happy medium.  I lean toward “less stuff,” probably due to once facing the enormous job of cleaning out my deceased parents’ home, plus having to minimize for many moves myself during my single years. And yes,  it’s time to pare down again….
.
So here come two signs that wag accusing fingers at our tendency to accumulate material possessions:
Live simply. 
Gratitude turns what we have into enough.
Both distill Jesus’ teachings about “stuff”:
Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; a man’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions. (Luke 12:15)
Even fabulously wealthy King Solomon saw how “stuff” can entrap:
I have seen a grievous evil under the sun: wealth hoarded to the harm of its owner.(Eccl. 5:13)
For 18 days in 1947, the New York times chronicled the story of the reclusive Collyer brothers. Police eventually found both deceased and buried under 103 TONS of clutter and garbage in their multi-story brownstone home. One had apparently died when piles of junk fell on him, burying him alive.

It’s not just having too much stuff.  It’s wanting more and more when we can get by with less. Far less. Back in the 1970s there was a popular faith conference series which passed out hearty red-covered note-taking binders to participants. The speaker addressed needs across the age spectrum, including being grateful for whatever material possessions God entrusts to us. The speaker’s teaching was this: “Contentment is understanding that if I am not satisfied with what I have, I will never be satisfied with what I want. Contentment is realizing that God has already given me everything I need for my present happiness.” I'd call that the uplifting side of downsizing!

Roots and blisters

I made a blistering attack against our lawn dandelions the other week.  Yes, “blistering,” for my garden “poker” gouged a large, painful blister in my palm. Despite my best efforts, most of the roots broke off mid-way down, giving then a second chance to bloom. Indeed, they did, their sunny heads turning to airborne seeds that laughed “Gotcha” before I could attack the offspring. Oh, those rascal roots of our fallen, weedy world. I’m grateful the Bible gives us another picture of good roots: “I pray that you, being rooted and established in love…” (Ephesians  3:17).
 

Rooted in love.  That was big on Paul’s mind as he reflected on his ministry of taking the Gospel message to Gentiles—that is, the rest of the non-Jewish world. I like how the Amplified New Testament  opens up the English equivalents of the original Greek of this text:  “May Christ through your faith [actually] dwell—settle down, abide, make His permanent home—in your hearts! May you be rooted deep in love and founded securely on love.”

I recently read a helpful word picture of “rootedness” while reading Leighton Ford’s book The Attentive Life. He told of the day he and a friend took a hike and came to two hardwood trees perched on top of a large boulder. Unable to draw sustenance from rock, the trees had grown a long root system that snaked over the boulder to the soil below. “As we looked at this ingenious root system, it seemed to pose a question: What is the root system of my life?  Is it deep and wide and long and strong enough to withstand the pressures of each day?" (The Attentive Life, IVP,2008, p.82).

 

Paul adds to the picture of “love roots” in this passage:  “Just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live in him, rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness” (Colossians 2:7).  The result of “love roots” is the flower of gratitude!  I re-read that verse after an blistering encounter with an ungrateful person who has some significant "anger" roots. That person's high on my prayer list!

But thankful for dandelions? Okay, I can find some reasons. They're  a cheerful yellow that begs to be picked for a bouquet for mommy.  Doing that is a rite of passage for little children, right?  Plus, I’m due to teach my toddler grandson the fine art of blowing off their woolly seed heads. I’ll try to time it so the wind doesn’t blow them into my neighbor’s yard!  

 

Joy-gifts

Last week the Seattle paper featured a Norwegian immigrant who just turned 100, and whose life story included eluding capture by the Nazis by a daring, two-day journey by skis over the mountains to Sweden. Eventually, he immigrated to America, settling in Seattle.  When the reporter asked what helped him live so long, he nixed his daughter’s suggestions of eating lots of fish and drinking ten to twelve cups of coffee a day. Instead, he said, “It’s not good to be a sourpuss.  Learn to be happy.”

His reply reminded me of the apostle Paul’s advice: “Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!”  Remarkably, this advice with the bookmark of Philippians 4:4 came from someone who was also a hunted man, and would be executed by the Romans.  Paul wasn’t saying we would live trouble-free lives and be happy-happy-happy.   Instead, no matter what happens, we’re to keep our focus on Jesus, the crucified, risen, and coming-again Lord. It’s called perspective.

I've learned that God has creative ways of reminding me about perspective. The other morning, after praying about some negative people in my life, I was feeling discouraged.  Would they ever let God change their lives? Walking outside, I noticed a freshly-opened rose, sparkling with water drops from the night’s rain. Yes, it had thorns up and down the stem, just as daily life holds its share of pokes and pains. Sourpusses dwell on the thorns. But God continues to remind me to focus on the beauty He offers.  This rose was absolutely splendid, so I took this photo and also downloaded it for the “wallpaper” of my computer screen.  If that rose brought me such pleasure, how much more it must have pleased God when He created it!

To repeat the counsel of that old Norwegian man, “It’s not good to be a sourpuss.  Learn to be happy.”  We can opt to fuss about life’s thorns, or choose to behold the gifts of beauty, grace and hope we have in Christ. By the way, the old man’s birthday will include meeting the king of Norway, for the third time, when that monarch comes to Seattle.  It’s unlikely I’ll live to 100, but I’m confident of meeting the King of Kings in eternity!

P.S.  In an earlier blog (April 24) I included a photo of my second grandson, Zion, born with a cleft lip and palate. Here he is two weeks after his first surgery to close the nose and lip gap. I look at this and say, “Beautiful!”  Too bad you can’t hear the baby laughter when I took this photo with his dad. More surgeries are ahead, but we’re focusing on the rose, not the thorns, and thanking God along the way.

 

The Letter Sent in Time

Thirty-four Father’s Days have passed since my father died at age 63. Had he lived, he’d be nearing one hundred. And while I miss him still, the memories come with no regrets because of a letter I wrote just a few months before his sudden death. I turned my experience into an article that must have touched a raw nerve, for it’s been published about twenty times. I’ll condense it here, hoping the message will be something you need, too.

Tears poured down my cheeks as I prepared to write my dad that September morning. In five days he would sit alone on what would have been his 38th wedding anniversary. My mother had died three months earlier of cancer.

I reflected on Dad’s tender heart toward his wife and children. Mom had chronic asthma, which worsened in rainy, moldy Washington state, where they were married. Believing doctors' counsel that she’d do better in sunny southern California (this was late ‘40s, before the smog got bad), he left his job and moved to unknowns in Los Angeles, where I would be born. Although a college graduate, he sold kitchen pots door-to-door until he got work in his chemistry-related profession. Together they worked out frugal solutions to one-income living so that Mom, with her medical issues, wouldn’t have to work. He supported her art and sewing hobbies, even helping her tie quilts and mark hems. Together they served the church and para-church groups.

I remembered his tender heart when at seven I had rheumatic fever and was given a fifty-fifty chance of living. He carried me into church to save my strength. At my mother’s death bed, as she lay struggling to breathe, he read to her from Psalm 116:15, “Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.” As we waited for death, he held her swollen hand until his head drooped in exhausted sleep.

I spent the summer after her June death with him, but he insisted I go forward with plans to start graduate school 2,400 miles away from the family home. I’ll never forget his hug, tears, and prayers as we said goodbyes beside my packed car.

I’d been reading through Paul’s letters in the New Testament. Over and over the apostle had expressed thanks: “I have not stopped given thanks for you” (Ephesians 1:16); “I thank God every time I remember you” (Philippians 1:3); “We always thank God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, when we pray for you” (Colossians 1:3); “I thank God, whom I serve, as night and day I constantly remember you in my prayers” (2 Timothy 1:3).

If Paul could tell his spiritual children how thankful he was for them, why couldn’t I tell my dad how thankful I was for him? Many times, of course, I’d told Dad that I loved him. But now, more than ever, he needed that affirmation. He needed to know why. I found a card at the campus bookstore that said, “Even when you feel alone, God is there.” Inside that card, I poured out my heart, expressing my love for him. I affirmed him for specific ways he cared for Mother, my sister and me. I suggested God had lots more for him to do.

Dad never mentioned getting the card. When I called, he was too emotional to say much. I didn’t dare ask. Ten weeks later, just before Christmas, I got a phone call from my brother-in-law. Dad had died suddenly of a heart attack.

As the single daughter, it fell to me to move home and empty out the family home and handle probate. That had been Dad’s desire before I left; he’d put my name on accounts to facilitate that and showed me where his will was. As I began what would become nearly a year’s task, I wondered about that letter. I asked a close neighbor and friend if he’d ever mentioned a special letter. She said yes, and that it meant a lot to him.

I really wanted to find it, but where, in such a full and cluttered house? January passed, then February as slowly I sorted out his and Mom’s belongings. I found old birthday cards, my grade school papers, and letters ten and fifteen years old. But not that letter. Then in March I got to the closet where luggage was stored. In the pocket of the suitcase he used on a trip just before his death, there it was. He had kept it with him, even on a trip!

I opened it and re-read it. Though tears, I had that sense of “rightness” over my transparent message of appreciation and gratitude. And I thanked God for prompting me to send that note of love—in time.

Thank-you note

A bride I know was a gem. She promptly and graciously acknowledged every shower and wedding gift. Except one. The package of pink towels came minus any sort of card or I.D. Would the gift-givers think her ungrateful because she never sent a note? How could she ever find out who they were?

As far as I know, she never solved the mystery. But her dilemma made me thankful that there’s one amazing, priceless gift for which I can daily give thanks. I was reminded of it a couple days ago in reading Paul’s first letter to Timothy. The venerable apostle starts out talking about people who reject God. Then he turns the finger on himself, the ultra-religious Christian hater, proud of his religious pedigree, and whose life changed dramatically to Christ-lover. Imagine the angst in his voice as Paul declared, “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst” (1 Timothy 1:15).

He writes of Christ’s unlimited patience with him, then breaks out in a doxology: “Now to the King eternal, immoral, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory for ever and ever. Amen” (v. 17).

Paul knew how to say “thank you” to God. He knew what God had given Him—the priceless gift of eternal life. And even the midst of his serious discussion about false teachers and other problems of the religious community, Paul stopped to say, “Thank you, God.”

The King eternal. There are no other Gods besides Him.
The immortal God. The One without a beginning and without an end.
The invisible God. At least for now. But someday, “we shall see him as he is” (1 John 3:2). I hope that grips your heart like nothing else. It does mine.
The only God. Not a shelf of gods. The only God, ever.
Honor and glory for ever and ever. Match this with the celestial hymn of Revelation 15:3: “Great and marvelous are your deeds, Lord God Almighty. Just and true are your ways, King of the ages.”

Here on a chilly early winter day, the fire is crackling and my husband is cracking open walnuts. I’ll soon assemble a mega “green bean casserole” for a big family dinner at my sister-in-law’s. Our daily newspaper with its 45 pounds (just kidding) of ads purring, “Buy, buy, buy” is in a disheveled pile near the couch. Often at Thanksgiving, I read my favorite “thankful” text, Psalm 103, as a reminder to praise God for all His benefits. But this year my heart is drawn to that verse in Paul’s letter to his protégé, Timothy.

Underlined in my Bible years ago with a blunt red pencil, it reminds me that this is what Thanksgiving is all about. Unlike the perplexed bride, we know both the Giver and His Gift. And to Him be all praise and thanksgiving, Amen.