Thanksgiving: Grace

Held by the Law on a million counts, but the Judge condemned His Son and gave me grace. Thank You, Father. –

Thanksgiving: Prayer

How easily my spirit faints— my words too weak to hold the weight of what I ought to say. And yet before God’s throne, where angels make His glories known and His glory lights the way, the incense wafts from bowls of gold— the prayers of the saints. Father, thank You for prayer. –

Thanksgiving: the Word

Father, thank You for Your Word— the place where eyes gather marks of ink, but hearts behold the beauty of the LORD. –

Thanksgiving: Children

Thank You, Lord, for children— little humans, full of life— laughing, jumping, singing, running; little robbers, demanding money, time, energy, patience; still, little diamonds, worth the cost— their words, their smiles, their hands, their hugs! small, magnificent treasures, lost in the quest for jobs, houses, clothes, cars; little children— made by God— whom Jesus never […]

Thanksgiving: Rainy Commutes

You gave the chance to fly— silver canvas street, and I, thrilled to join the fleet, steered my car on to the sky. Father, thank You for rainy commutes. –

Thanksgiving: Pain

Father, thank You for the pain— a gentle honesty that holds the body in useless stillness to say, Any strength we have is given. Father, thank You for the sorrow— an earnest loyalty that rends the heart with throbbing losses to say, The only home we have is Heaven. –

Thanksgiving: Writers

My friends from every age— I may not know their faces, but I have met their souls in frozen, concrete traces— inscriptions on a page. Father, thank You for writers. –

Thanksgiving: Work

Father, thank you for work— the everyday tasks that fill our hands— more satisfying than pleasures bought with stolen time. –

Thanksgiving: Home

The world is wide, and all its wonders, calling— mountains and castles and streams. But I am tired, and all my heart-steps, craving— not mountains, not castles—but home. Thank you, Lord, for home. –

Thanksgiving: Friends

Father, thank You for friends— the lamp light on the dark road home that gilds the rocks before our feet and shines—seen or unseen— however far across the earth we roam, still burning past the line where darkness ends.

melenoria

thankful