Small (and yet really not small) gifts

I'm almost ready to talk about some big things God is revealing to us about my health that quite honestly have sent me into an R.E.M. "Losing My Religion" kind of crisis of faith. Part of this new information has prompted me to run my own little experiments of sort with my energy and reactions to environment and other triggers. As silly as it sounds I need to convince myself one more time this is not psychological in any way. Also, selfishly, just once in awhile, I want to open the same gifts most of you get to every day no matter how much I will pay tomorrow. I want to remember the simple surprises God gives to us over and over again that I have not seen in so very long because I have been here in this room and in this bed for almost a year now.

Leigh McLeroy writes, "We prevent God from giving us the great spiritual gifts He has in store for us, because we do not give thanks for daily gifts. We think we dare not be satisfied with the small measure of spiritual knowledge, experience, and love that has been given to us, and that we must constantly be looking forward eagerly for the highest good. Then we deplore the fact that we lack the deep certainty, the strong faith, and the rich experience that God has given to others, and we consider this lament to be pious. We pray for the big things and forget to give thanks for the ordinary, small (and yet really not small) gifts."

Tonight I am getting on my knees (closer to walking on glass these days since my right one always subluxes) while my family sleeps and praying for really big impossible things. But first I'll be giving thanks for today's gifts and the eyes and heart to see them.

God is good. Life is good. Today I didn't have to fake it.

My empty pot finally has flowers thanks to my gardening momma. Things between us have been strained. This act of love reminded me of one of my cardinal relationship rules based on the Grace of God. MEET PEOPLE WHERE THEY ARE.

My mom has a rose bush for each of her children and grandchildren. Mine has always been a red rose. This year my bush is sick and needs moved. You can tell from the leaves, and we had to prune it way back to get rid of the ick. Still, a beautiful blossom that holds my truth.

My grandma Wishart is eighty-nine years old. My mom and I inherited the love for gardening and much of our knowledge about plants from her. I don't thank God enough for the blessing of knowing her in this season.

In my former life I always kept champagne in the fridge for celebrating every day kind of miracles. I read recently it is the number one anaphalaxis causing food or beverage. Top that with my favorite, a fresh strawberry, a new allergy of mine, and here comes trouble. Still, I enjoyed every drop even though I felt very sick afterward. This was definitely a test I failed.

My Dani J. . . Dreaming.

Our husband and father of the year . . . EVERY year. I caught him dreaming too.

My Laney Jayne and her sidekick, Twixie. LOVE.

This last picture is a little Disney sign with a quote from Cinderella,

"Even miracles take a little time."

The four painted rocks represent our family. If you read here regularly you know I have a thing with rocks, especially ones with words or symbols on them. Dan painted me the one with the orange cross just this week. It's a perfect prayer rock and reminds me of the greatest miracle of all, my Savior.

There are no small gifts and "even miracles take a little time."

Our hope remains.