Skip to main content

Gift...

An accumulation...
1619. My Dad's parents coming for a visit to see Brooklyn and Tobin, and Brooklyn warming up to them quickly
1620. A(n accidental) nap, two days in a row
1621. Tobin going to be early (8:30, as opposed to 11 or 12 like he has been)
1622. Remembering forgotten necessities before we had gotten too far on our journey
1623. Brooklyn and Tobin's extraordinary patience with a five and a half hour drive that should only have taken three
1624. Adam being able to get off and come home shortly after we got home
1625. A church that serves
1626. Tasks that can be done while wearing Tobin
1627. People who see a need and then do something about it
1628. Adam being able to pack up his event the day before, so he could have the holiday mostly off
1629. His love/talent for cooking
1630. Snuggling on the couch while a tornado warning blew over
1631. Brooklyn agreeing to have a cold muffin and water for breakfast, since the power was out and that was about the only option
1632. A trauma free after-nap trip to the grocery store
1633. Playing board games and sharing a bowl of popcorn with Adam
1634. A visit from a friend
1635. Errands run, with help
1636. The water cutting off at almost bedtime, instead of earlier in the evening
1637. Morgan's magical baby-napping skilz 
1638. Finding a local organization that would get unneeded clothes to people who need them
1639. A date night with Adam (and Tobin)
1640. A jammy day - it's been awhile
1641. Brooklyn practicing peace without a fuss (an hour of quiet play, three hours of napping, and she visibly felt better afterwards)
1642. Not having to address a diaper malfunction alone
_______________

1643. A haircut that I don't need a week to come to terms with
1644. Finding a book I've been wanting, on the clearance rack
1645. Sitting up irresponsibly late, knitting and talking with a friend
1646. An excellent sermon, and discussion thereof over lunch
1647. Spotting a little porcupine and three kestrels
1648. The energy to reset our apartment before bed, despite Tobin falling asleep late
1649. A deliciously cool first of June - and organic strawberries being on sale, because strawberries = summer to me
1650. Successful completion of a Secret Project for Adam (which included raiding his tool selection, and rummaging for drill bits and shorter screws)
1651. Tobin staying up late - it helped me stay awake until Adam could talk
1652. Spending the day at home, and having a better afternoon than a morning (usually it goes the other way, so I was dreading afternap)
1653. My paint holding out (since I keep thinking of new things that I want to paint with it)
1654. Adam actually getting off on time and being able to talk
1655. Designing my own art prints (more personal and less expensive than buying them!)
1656. One bookshelf painted - one to go!
1657. A shower - it didn't help my headache, but it was good for morale
1658. My headache clearing up in the night (after initially worsening alarmingly)
1659. A peaceful jammy day
1660. The second book shelf completed and off my conscience

Tobin fell asleep in the open doorway the other day - so I turned off the lights to dissuade the bugs, and enjoyed the evening air on the balcony while I waited for him to wake up.

Adam and I have been rewatching Fringe, an episode a night, for the past few weeks. {Sort-of spoiler warning, if you haven't seen all five seasons and are planning on watching it at some point...} It struck me how obsessed Walter is over his son Peter, and how he assumes everything that happens has something to do with him/them, when in the end the "boy [who] is important" isn't even Peter.

Because I'm the same way. After a year and a half of counting gifts, the thing that's the hardest for me to grasp is still this: everything is a gift. In my smallness, I look at every situation and wonder how it's benefiting me - but maybe "all things working together for good" means that it's not actually for me, but for someone else.

After all, I'm just a small figure in a grander narrative, and God is both the Author and the main character. My own part only covers a few chapters, and that is a gift in itself. I need to remember that in telling my story, I'm really just telling His - and in counting gifts, all is a gift, whether I see it as one or not.

Blending One Thousand Gifts with Five Minute Friday - a weekly flashmob of bloggers that gathers internet-wide to write for five minutes (no stopping, no editing!) on a prompt provided by sweet Kate, then links up and shares a little comment love. For more posts, more info, and/or to join in, head here!

Comments

Patti M. said…
I so enjoyed reading this part of your gratitude list. And then I got to that last paragraph: "After all, I'm just a small figure in a grander narrative, and God is both the Author and the main character. My own part only covers a few chapters, and that is a gift in itself." I stopped. Those 2 sentences are profound. Yes, we all know our time here is short, but how you expressed it moved me, made it real again and not just a cliche.

Tonight I've added "Paper-Bark Burch's post (with URL)" to my own gratitude journal. Thank you!
Tara Ulrich said…
It really is hard to wrap our mind around how everything is a gift. But it truly is!
Anonymous said…
That's inspiring gift-counting! (I really related to the 'haircut I don't have to take a week to get used to...') It sounds like this habit is really doing a wonderful work in your heart and mindset!
Karrilee Aggett said…
It's all grace! Love this... and that sweet baby sleeping... (count that gift twice, my friend!) ;)

Popular posts from this blog

World Changers

A couple of months ago, someone texted to ask if we had any "extra" books that we'd like to donate for the kids of a homeless family that our church was temporarily housing. We read all of our picture books regularly (sometimes multiple times a day) so I asked Brooklyn, who is almost five, if she wanted to go to the bookstore and buy some books, explaining who they were for (because I am in full support of kids having books, just perhaps not at the involuntary expense of my own kids - I have a thing against voluntelling them to do nice things).
She looked at me and said, "We should give them our books!" and began excitedly pulling books off the shelf while asking me questions about the kids who would be reading them. At her request, I got her a brown paper grocery bag - which she then proceeded to fill completely with her favorite books, talking the whole time about how much she loved them, her favorite things about them, and why she thought these kids would a…

Motivate...

In order to change your knitting, you must first change yourself. I've lost track of how many times I've said that, or how many people I've said it to. Frustrated new knitters wondering why their work is loose or tight or uneven or really anything less than perfect. But something I love about knitting is that it's a record of your inner dialogue. That swatch knit at the yarn store table with a cozy cup of coffee and a helpful (and more experienced) knitter nearby is going to be a lot more relaxed than the sweater begun a week later while sitting next to a hospital bed - just like the knitter.

Unfortunately, this also applies to my own knitting. For years, I was apparently unaffected by the shifts and turmoils in my own life, so I assumed that I was exempt from the rule - when the reality was, in fact, that I wasn't really experiencing any of those on anything deeper than a surface level because everything was deadened by depression. When I finally started to really…

Spark

A few years ago, I was introduced to the concept of replacing the traditional list of resolutions with a single word. It appealed to me - I am not a big list person, but I love language and words and meanings and etymology and metaphor and... ahem. Ennyhoo. I liked the idea.
I've never chosen the word. It's always presented itself to me - and last year was no different. Pacific was very insistent, even though I tried to argue with it. Pacific? What does that even mean? What am I supposed to do with that?
But I accepted it, and I'm glad I did. I learned about depth and calm, about storm and nurture, about faith and adventure - and about the unstoppable ocean of God's grace, that overwhelms to fill and cleanse and bring blessings unasked.
So I'm bidding pacific a very fond farewell, and welcoming spark and whatever lessons it would like to bring. I invited it in with a copper wire punctuated with tiny lights and wrapped around my mood board, and I've got an empt…