I'm daily filling the JOY JAR.
Small papers are sometimes dropped more than once a day.
Thanksgiving breeds JOY.
One, two and more and I am joy-filled.
I've been reading the book by Ann Voskamp,
One Thousand Gifts.
One thought that presents itself over and over is
to take the pain that is given and give thanks.
Jesus knowing the cross was before HIM,
took the bread, broke it and gave thanks.
And I remembered...
Palm Sunday, March 23, 1975,
a broken body and broken hearts.
Cries of a dying little boy and tears and gasps of a family who waits.
A few days later,
Baby brother, baby boy is gone.
In a hospital room, a mama takes the bread of brokenness and gives thanks.
Pain nonetheless, but thanksgiving for a Christ who was willing to take our pain to the cross.
Breaking bread and giving thanks.
In the Bible, thanksgiving always proceeded a miracle.
Mama's miracle, a vision of baby boy walking with Jesus along the crystal sea,
all because she broke a saltine cracker and drank the grape juice.
Fast forward one week,
the night before Easter.
Like the disciples, we huddle together and grieve.
With a broken heart, Daddy takes the broken bread and gives thanks.
Maybe not yet for his own brokenness, but in Christ
for being broken that we may know wholeness.
A baby brother, a baby boy is gone.
A Preacher-daddy and his now three children,
we take the pain that if given and we give thanks.
Today, I fill a vintage planter with kisses.
and they spill everywhere!
My first thought is to utter, "Ugggh."
(Maybe I did, on second thought.)
And then I remembered,
Jesus, broken and spilled out
after He had given thanks.
Everytime I walk by the candy-filled planter,
I will pause and give thanks.
Because He lives, we may live also.