Each Day is a Gift

My quiet time has diminished lately to very choppy segments of time.  It has not allowed me to process the many things I have been thinking about adequately enough to write them out.  Lent sprung on me unexpectedly, sooner than I was prepared.  I fear most of my life is going to be that way from here on out, but that must be what God has for me.  I am not a great planner, so maybe this keeps me from needing to plan more than I ought.  I have been looking for the blessings in my life, and they have been springing into floods.  They have been surrounding me all this time, and I have been blind.

Ann Voskamp's book arrived yesterday, and I jumped right into it.  The opening story about her sister reminded me of a day that still brings chills to my heart.  Karsten was two.  I was visiting a friend, with all of the children.  Eden was a baby, and I had my nephew, who was also only a few months old.  The children were all outside playing.  Lisa got a phone call and looked out the window to see a woman we didn't know chasing Karsten up the driveway.  I ran out of the house and down to him.  The woman had seen him next to the highway and had turned around to get him off the road.  She was trying to get to him when a school bus drove past, as she was waving it to slow down.  He wasn't hit, but it scared her, and me nearly to death.  I will never forget the feeling of holding him, and being so grateful that he was whole and healthy.  I sat down and shook, and could hardly get through the rest of the day.  My kids asked me, what would have happened if Karsten would have been hit.  I told them, that it would have been a blessing for him, since he would be with the Lord, but it would have been very hard for me, since I let him get into the road.  I had a peace as I told them this, knowing that it was true.  I would have struggled, but he wouldn't have.  I have been much more grateful for each day I have with him since then.  I know that God could take any of my kids at any time, and that each day is a gift.  God has something special for Karsten, and I know that he is His.
# 51-59 (the above story counts for two, Ann's book, and Karsten) I am thankful for...

The interruptions.  The stories that I am told when I really want to be doing something else.  The dog that makes messes at the most inopportune times that I need to stop and clean up.  The calls from school that I need to come get someone that needs to be at home.  These are all reminders that I am not my own, but belong body and soul (and schedule) to my faithful saviour, Jesus Christ.  He has called me to meet the needs of these ten people for the next seventy years or so.

My ancestors that were brave enough to leave their homelands and venture out to America.  They were stronger people than I am.  It shames me sometimes to think of what they sacrificed to give me this life, and they knew nothing of it.

All of the people that prayed for me when I was lost.  They laid the groundwork for me to have a new heart, and to be saved from all my sins.  I shudder to think about where I would be without Christ.

Our pastors, Peter Leithart, Doug Wilson, and Toby Sumpter.  Their faithful preaching keeps me looking for the middle of the road, instead of swerving from one ditch to the other.  They feed us faithfully every week, and the food is very good.

I am thankful for this community of saints that surround me.

That my children think a large family is something like 14 children.  Families of 4-5 are small.

My adopted children.  They have helped me to see that being a mother is much broader than I realized.  They are truly my children, but I am not the only one who has loved them this way.  In the midst of all their losses God has given them many precious gifts.  They have taught me so very much about laying down our lives, and having faith in God to make impossible circumstances a blessing.