I'm thankful for thumbs, Henry Ford's imagination, thunder, those Sri Lankan kurundu trees that grow cinnamon bark, arms around me.
old minor hymns, reassurance, friends who stay, privacy in the shower.
the printing press, healing, Benjamin Franklin's kite, the book of Isaiah, tea leaves, seasons.
having a real, true home in the church.
the miracle of water that can boil, freeze, fill human cells, ripple, trickle and crash, steam, make creation bloom, obey God's voice, make things clean, form vapor, steam and snowflakes, make earth inhabitable, and wave for the moon.
never feeling unloved.
the eternal kinship of fellow believers.
the 8 note scale, Alexander Graham Bell, vocal chords, the postal service, stars on the water, gasping at the sky.
the sound of Sunday in my heart.
kissing, soap, charity, babies, Philippians, moments of joy, the sensation of creative flow.
kinfolk, passion, the gospel, friends who make time for real conversation.
photographs, wood, David the shepherd boy, truckers, toothbrushes, brothers.
stone fruits, giggling children, ticklishness, cotton plants, satisfaction.
fire, eyelids, goosedown, letters in the mail, sleep, sheep's wool, oceans.
that he fell in love with me.
the Spirit testifying to my spirit.
pillows, blankets, prayer, feeling at home, the resurrection, fruit-bearing vines, pasta.
the shimmering buzz of live music. most especially when created by people I love.
vision, poems, forgiveness, knees, garlic, Handel.
stringed instruments, cookies, candles, the people God sends to my table.
my children. oh my, yes.
my mother laughing, modest girls and boys who respect them.
that God thought flowers were necessary.
that God thought of any of it, and all of it. and that He thinks of me.