I’m planning to write biweekly now; that seems to work better for my schedule and, probably, your inboxes. Since I shared reflections on 25 last week, I wasn’t going to post this week. But then I found myself content, in this moment, and had to share:
I didn’t take this photo in our camper,
because we no longer live in one. Through the miraculous, we’ve moved two hundred feet from where our camper sits into a home.1
Hallelujah.
Though sufficient for our immediate needs, the camper did not provide sustainable living conditions for our family. Poorly insulated, it was not an “all seasons” camper; below fifty degrees, I only felt warm under our duvet and a wool blanket.
And now I sit by a fire which, even on the lowest setting, warms the house not just sufficiently but with extravagance.
Our first night under this roof, temperatures dropped ten degrees Fahrenheit below freezing—the coldest we’ve yet experienced in Southern Ohio this season. We’ve since had a wind chill too. But we Scotts are warm.
This week, of all the weeks in the year, we are thankful.
I’ve been known to give thanks begrudgingly.
Ask Jay about our first five months up north. Sitting under a Pacific Northwest Cedar, I once said, “I’m thankful for this tree, but it’s not like the ones in Ohio.” In unfavorable conditions, my thanks is lip service only, the “but” negating the gratitude.
But I’m learning the underside of gratitude.
As part of our liturgy on Sundays, we beseech God to accept our sacrifice of Thanksgiving2, a concept which has confounded me. But today I understood: Thanksgiving is the purest sacrifice, because the giver is humbled.
The giver does not expect anything in return, for she has already received.
She acknowledges: everything is gift—not the work of her hands.
Stripped of that which makes her—work, home, possessions, family, sustenance, water, warmth—she is clothed in Enough.
The paradox of gratitude, especially in difficult circumstances.
Sitting before the fire tonight, I offer a sacrifice of thanksgiving for all my good gifts:
This home—
given to us in our need after I conceded the humblest prayer.
I said, God, we can’t do it. We can’t get anywhere but here. If we’re going to do anything but survive, you’ve got to do something.
He did something.
Water, Food, and Warmth—
basic necessities which I could not take for granted while living in the camper.
Now that we’re in a stable structure, I heave relief when I turn on the water and water comes from the well up and I don’t worry about having enough.
The past four years, the darkness, hopelessness, “home”less-ness therein—
I am becoming a person who can admit her needs and inadequacies, can delight in what she has nonetheless, and let it rest.
I am becoming a person “who continues, in the face of so much disappointment,” who stands, like a tree, in the face of everything.
I am be-coming because I came through; I am coming to my Self.
No pretty epithets replace the heartache here. No circumstantial “but” can circumvent the gift. My thanks is a sacrifice, and in it, I have enough. I rest.
Come in from the cold, it's a long and winding road. Rest. Rest. Rest.
If you would, please share.
If some thanks comes to mind, offer it up here as sacrifice. What good things have you received in the past season? Have you been stripped? Do you have enough?
Take off any but’s and let the warm water flow up and warm you from the underside.
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Given the chance, I would have built this house for us. Floor plan, woodwork, greenhouse space, kitchen windows overlooking a garden, porch with swing and ample space. Cottage of my dreams. Miraculous, indeed.
which comes from a psalm? Maybe Dad can enlighten us on the location of this scripture.
I'm thankful for you all! As a gift this Christmas, and since we're "growing in a new home," I'm planning to update my site and its structure. Sending biweekly posts is just the beginning. Stay tuned!
I'm thankful for you ❤ your friendship, always-ready smile, the way you cling to the hope of our Savior in the darkest of days. You are an inspiration to me. I have had some dark days this season, trying (once again) to start over with new everything: privince, town, church, job for Tim, school for the kids, friends (maybe), temporary housing, etc. It's hard to describe that feeling. I know you understand it very well because you have been there too. I praise God that we shared one of those new times. I praise Him for being the same, even though everything else is different. He is the constant and when I think on Him, I can only sink to my knees in humbleness and gratitude for I can do nothing and survive nothing without His love, grace and mercy.