The Joy of Gratitude

I sat down to write a profound reflection on gratitude. I intended to compose beautiful words about what it means to give thanks. I tried to focus on finding the right way to describe what this day is to be about.

But, Annie just wanted me to play with her.

My six-month-old niece was scooting around at my feet. She let out a delighted squeal as she gripped my pant leg and tried to pull herself up. She looked at me with her big blue eyes and gave me a heart-melting, dimpled smile.

I put away my writing and got down on the floor.

Thanksgiving is about, well, giving thanks for all that God has done for us.

Gratitude, though, is more than what we say – it’s how we live.

Gratitude is about thanking God for Annie and then getting down on the floor and enjoying the blessing of her little life.

Gratitude is about thanking God for your family and then savoring the laughter shared around the dinner table.

Gratitude is about thanking God for your friends and then treasuring the conversations over a cup of coffee.

It is expression and enjoyment.

Words of gratitude without a life of gratitude are empty.

Let’s express our gratitude today, but let’s not forget to enjoy what God has given.

Quicksand

Most of my childhood was spent playing with my two brothers in the beautiful woods behind our house. We created elaborate imaginary worlds out there (think Bridge to Terabithia, only with less tragic endings). We had our own system of currency (usually rocks), our own medical practices (dirt and leaves, mostly), even our own sports (“mudboarding,” which involved gliding down the hills in our sneakers and only worked right after it rained). 

Our many hours in the woods also gave us this sense of survival – we had to take care of ourselves in the dangerous backcountry of our suburban home. (In reality, our parents could almost always see us through the living room window.)

Obviously, if we were going to survive in the deep wilderness, we needed survival books. Our favorite was The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook. You never knew when you’d need to escape the death-grip of quicksand. The first step, by the way, is to not panic which means I probably wouldn’t have made it to the second step.

I always thought quicksand would turn out to be a bigger problem in my life than it has been. I've actually never even seen quicksand, much less been stuck in it. Yet, the fear was there. I would often imagine what a horrible death that would be. I would imagine the feeling of utter loneliness as I sunk into the darkness. Morbid, I know.

I’m not afraid of quicksand anymore. I’ve outgrown that. 

I have adult fears now – about relationships, finances, and health. I spin my own worst-case scenarios. I catastrophize. I let my imagination run wild.

Nothing feeds my fear like my imagination.

Throughout my life, most of what I feared would happen never did.  Life hasn’t been perfect, by any means, but it also hasn’t been as tragic as I thought it would be.

Yes, there is real tragedy and real pain and real worst-case scenarios.

But, let's deal with those as they come and resolve to no longer waste ourselves on destructive fantasies.

Legacy

As I mentioned in the previous post, my great-grandmother – Grandma Gertie, as we called her – was one of the godliest women I’ve ever known.

Before she died, my family and I had made the six-hour drive from  St. Louis to her retirement center in North Manchester, Indiana. We had spent the week laughing and talking, playing games and listening to her stories. She had so many stories.

When it was time to go home, I got to stay behind for another week with my great-aunt Judy. We were together when a nurse called late one night to tell us that Grandma Gertie wasn’t going to make it.

I grabbed her Bible off of her nightstand and we hurried to the hospital wing where she had spent her last few days. I wish I could remember what I read to her that night. I know it was from Psalms – she loved that book most. I was holding her hand when she passed.

Gertie knew Jesus. She didn’t just know about Him. She knew Him and loved Him. I watched her take her last breath and realized that there was nothing that she wanted more than to be with Him and, soon, she would be.

I also realized that if I died I wouldn’t be with Him. I wasn’t a Christian. I knew about Jesus, but I didn’t know Jesus and I didn’t love Him.

I wish I could tell you I made the decision to accept the grace of God that night. I wish I could tell you that right then I put my trust in Him. I wish I could tell you from that day forward He was the object of my faith and the reason for my hope. I wish I could tell you all that, but I can’t.

I took her Bible home with me. I began reading the notes she had made in the margins of nearly every page. Then, I started reading the words she had been reflecting on.

I read about the love of God and the grace Jesus offered. I read about forgiveness and hope and joy and peace. Grandma Gertie had all of those things. I wanted them, too. So, after months of God relentlessly drawing me towards Himself – through His Word and through Gertie's example – I finally accepted Christ.

Witnessing her faith encouraged mine. Watching her life changed mine. 

There are people witnessing our faith and watching our lives. We all leave a legacy.

The question is what kind of legacy we will leave. I hope I leave a legacy like Gertie.

Walking with the Wise

“Whoever walks with the wise becomes wise, but the companion of fools will suffer harm.” (Proverbs 13:20)

One of the wisest women I’ve ever known was Gertrude Jordan – my great-grandmother. I was only able to walk with her for the first thirteen years of my life, but she keeps changing me.

After she passed away, I inherited one of her most precious belongings – her Bible. My great-grandfather Stanley gave it to her as a birthday gift in 1935. In the margins, she wrote her thoughts and prayers. She recorded decades of heartache and pain. She poured out her soul to her Father on these pages.

On the first page, she wrote down twelve principles that she pursued every day of her life. She called them her “Daily Dozen.” I thought I’d share with you the words of this sweet and godly woman.

The Daily Dozen

1. Make up your mind to be happy. Learn to find pleasure in the simple things.

2. Make the best of your circumstances. No one has everything and everyone has something of sorrow intermingled with the gladness of life. The trick is to make the laughter outweigh the tears.

3. Don't take yourself too seriously. Don't think that somehow you should be protected from misfortunes that befall others.

4. You can't please everybody. Don't let criticism worry you.

5. Don't let your neighbor set your standards. Be yourself.

6. Do the things you enjoy doing. But stay out of debt.

7. Don't borrow trouble. Imaginary things are harder to bear than the actual ones.

8. Since hate poisons the soul, do not cherish grudges. Avoid people who make you unhappy.

9. Have many interests. If you can't travel, read about new places.

10. Don't hold postmortems. Don't spend your life brooding over sorrows and mistakes.

11. Do what you can for those less fortunate than yourself.

12. Keep busy on something. A very busy person never has time to be unhappy.

Every Christian is called to live wisely. Learning to live wisely, though, taking intentionality. It requires submitting to the source of all wisdom - God Himself - and surrounding ourselves with godly men and women. As Proverbs tells us, "Whoever walks with the wise becomes wise." I'm forever grateful that I had such a wise grandmother. She continues to impact me. I hope she impacts you, too.

Click Here to Download the List

Making Time for What Matters

We make time for what matters to us. Our priorities are never more apparent than when life gets busy.

 If you were to follow me around for a day, you would almost certainly be bored, but you would learn a lot about what matters to me. You would learn that there is often a difference between my “held priorities” and my “operational priorities.”

“Held priorities” are what we say matters to us.  “Operational priorities” are what we do.

So, if I say, for example, that my family matters to me, but I never call or visit them, you would rightly conclude that there is a discrepancy between my “held priorities” and my “operational priorities.” I’m saying one thing matters to me, but I’m not doing anything that would indicate that it actually does.

Think for a bit about what matters to you. Write it down. Then, pull out your calendar and ask yourself if your held priorities are operational in your life. That is, do what you say and what you do line up?

A change may be in order. It may be a big change, like pulling back on your commitments at work to make time to be with your family. It may be a small change, like waking up a half an hour earlier to exercise.

Let me share one small change I am making.

Writing matters to me. There has been a discrepancy, though. I say it matters, but I don’t do it. It is time for me to remedy that.

You can hold me to it.