Morning Thanks and Evening Graces

I have mixed feelings about these rocks with words engraved into them. I'm just not sure what to make of them. Large, like the one pictured here, or small enough to carry around in a pocket, they are typically flat, and rounded, or oval, worn down and smoothed out in the rough and tumble life of a river. They can be found in garden centers, and gift shops. Soothing words like "peace", "love", "happiness", "contentment", and "gratitude" are engraved into their otherwise plain grey surfaces, one word to each stone. I like the softness of their cool grey surfaces and the contrast of their smoothed and rounded symmetry with the deep sharp lines and curves carved into their surface.

I guess I don't understand their purpose. Are they strictly decorative? This one, in Mom's garden, lends a certain natural beauty to her planter, but it would do that all by itself, without any word on its surface. Is it intended as a sermon? Should I read "be grateful" when I see a rock that says GRATITUDE? Is it a proclamation? Does it greet our visitors with the message "grateful people live here"? Is it a sign of some kind? "Something good up ahead, be looking for it . . . " ? Or is it a simple reminder that though there are many hard things in life, like stones, there is much for which we can give thanks? It seems to me that meaning comes with context. Perhaps the lack of context is what bothers me about these stones, these words in isolation nestled into a garden planter, gathering dust on a bookshelf, or suspended, forgotten in the pocket of some sweater hanging in the back of the closet.

It occurs to me that my recent Facebook posts, Morning Thanks and Evening Graces, may also need context. They too appear as words in isolation, yet they are written with intention, have an origin. After all, only God creates something out of nothing. Several influences have converged in my life lately, resulting in these daily posts. My recent reading has included a blog and a book which focus on gratitude, and which recognize this simple truth, that gratitude is possible even when the stones of life trip us up, and lay us on our faces.

The blog I've been reading is called Stuff in the Basement, by J. C. Schaap. He posts his near daily essays under the heading Morning Thanks, and often includes pictures he's taken of his subject, lovely ones he's gotten with a much better camera than mine. The tenor of his essays suggest that the practice of giving thanks keeps us real, and grounded, and I like that idea. I also resonate with the idea of beginning one's day with giving thanks. You can find his blog at siouxlander.blogspot.com.

The book, "One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are" by Ann Voskamp, resonates deeply with things in my own soul. It's the story of a woman transformed by the practice of gratitude, and is one of the loveliest books I've read in a long while. Ann dives right into the depths of real life, laying a stone, a big one, and bloody too, right in her reader's path. It makes for a difficult beginning, but it's worth it to keep going, because if you can get past that big rock you'll find honey. Gratitude does not come easily for Ann, she strains to learn the art of noticing the graces strewn in her path, but once she catches on, she soars. Naming these gifts was a challenge from a friend, to write down, if she could, one thousand things that made her happy. So she started a list . . .

The most recent and powerful reminder for me to be ever mindful of God's gifts, however, was the movie The Tree of Life. See it if you can. We had to travel over fifty miles to find a theater showing it. Worth every mile.

I haven't the time, or the inclination to write a daily essay about the things for which I'm thankful, like Mr. Schaap does, nor do I struggle to see the abundance of God given gifts by which I'm daily surrounded, like Ann Voskamp did. Simple joys and abundant beauty arrest my attention numerous times daily, and gratitude wells up. The discipline for me is not in the practice of keeping a daily journal, or in noticing and list making. What comes with difficulty for me is the speaking, saying my thanks out loud, not hoarding those moments between me and God.  Naming things that stop me in my tracks and give me joy, and acknowledging out loud my gratitude for God's generosity, require opening my hands and giving a part of myself away. Yet, the discipline of speaking up is one I think I need to begin learning, practicing. Morning Thanks offered for the hope and promise of the day, and Evening Graces for the days when saying thanks once simply isn't enough.