Turning Complaints into Thanks

Over the years, Thanksgiving has been celebrated by my family with a hodgepodge of characters. For as long as I can remember, we have celebrated with some of our closest family friends, but each year at least one person in our clan is not in attendance and we typically have an added member or two of our immediate families. Each year, members who are not present are mourned, but life goes on and oddly, so do our festivities. This year, we easily felt the absence of certain loved ones, but I must admit there was a level of lightheartedness and joy that I don't remember in the past few years. For that, I am deeply thankful. Playing games, laughing until we thought we might burst, sharing and rejoicing in the blessings evident in the lives of those participating in the day... Today, God reminded me that in all circumstances, we are to give thanks, not JUST Thanksgiving. While each day, we have reason to complain, we are deeply blessed to be alive and for that, we have ought not complain.Thanksgiving time is known as a time of giving thanks and proclaiming thanks for every good thing. However, lately I have been thinking, why is it that only at Thanksgiving time do we profess thanks or count our blessings and the rest of the year, we are looked at strangely if we vocalize things we are thankful for? Why is complaining the norm? Why don't we practice professing our thanks throughout the rest of the year? Would you care to join me in 365 days of blessings and thanks instead of just 30 for the month of November?

Allow me to celebrate your blessings with you today and everyday.

And on days where you cannot list a single blessing, better days are coming. Hang in there.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Snow Snow Snow

Last night was the first real snow of the season and though I was tucked in my warm bed, in my warm, cozy dorm room, I could not sleep. While a whole host of things were on my mind, (I spend many nights sleepless, because of the pain in this world) I could not stop thinking about those who do not have homes, or a warm dorm room to sleep in when the snow and ice get bad. Snow used to be my favorite thing. I find it to be so magical and pure and I get a childlike sense of happiness when I get to play in the snow. Something about the first snow still encourages that sense within me. However, after spending a weekend living on the streets in the bitter cold rain and wind last year, I cannot help but think of this weather in a different manner. My heart breaks for those who don't have a home. I so desperately want to be able to help, but I feel so helpless. This is a feeling I experience almost daily.
As I lay in my bed last night, I begged Jesus to comfort them. I begged God to be the perfect Father that He is and layer his children with peace and warmth, even when no warmth exists out on the cold streets. It feels almost hypocritical for me to pray those prayers, because if you reread the beginning of this paragraph, I was laying in my bed, my warm bed, with a roof over my head. Nonetheless, often praying is all that I can do and who am I to diminish prayer? Speaking to the creator of this world, speaking to my Lord, my Savior, is a privilege and a gift and prayer changes things. We are told throughout scripture to pray for others. May my prayers never cease and may my heart continue to break for the people in the margins, the people who don't have a roof over their heads, the people who don't have the blessings that I do. 

I must end with an echo of the words of Dr Jeff Cook, "When you have been (or are) homeless on the street, you are less than excited about the first snow of the season."

God break my heart for the city and for the people in the city who do not have a place to call home.