star-gazing

If there's one thing that I'm learning, it's that I need to give thanks! Already, this thousand gifts journey has shown me just how often I grumble and complain [both about things/circumstances that I don't have or those that I do and wish that I didn't] instead of lifting my eyes to the Giver of all good gifts. I'm reminded of a few short lines of verse that I read once:

Two men looked through prison bars; one saw dirt, the other stars.

By the time that my list reaches one thousand, I hope to be a star-gazer. Lifting our eyes heavenward does something to us, doesn't it? Some of my favorite memories involve being with friends, wrapped in blankets (or, during hot Texas summers, sprawled in our tanks and shorts) and staring up at the stars. Each time that I've had the opportunity to do so, I've been struck by the vastness of the created order, my own smallness, and the strong, albeit strange, connection between the two. In that place, perspective is found: the day's worries, no longer illuminated by the sun's blinding light, seem less intimidating; voices speaking of war, revenge, hatred fall silent; persons maimed by life's barbs find peace. Surely the God who made all of this is powerful, and merciful, and good.

and so, I lift my eyes...
0021. banjos, in any and every situation (musically and otherwise)

0022. hot lemon-y tea

0023. happy surprises

0024. friends who will let me be real, even when real = messy

0025. new beginnings

0026. Chilean cabernet sauvignon

0027. opportunities to practice bravery

0028. living in a city teeming with people of beautifully different cultures

0029. good running shoes

0030. a clean kitchen

0031. laughing with Dad

0032. the grace to recognize my sin

0033. knowing that pain, while it sucks, won't have the final word

0034. the kindness and generosity of CTKers

0035. the stack of books on my bedside table