A Note to my Future Self on Thankfulness

Morning view from my back porch

Morning view from my back porch

This morning I wasn’t myself. Don’t ask me who I was…just someone different.

All the things on my mind were hazy under the fog still attached to me from lack of sleep. Ambitions for coming endeavors sat numb on my tongue. Words came out but didn’t really connect with my brain. I told the Lord I really had nothing to say. No inspiration was moving my spirit to action.

In that soft and loving way He sometimes speaks, I heard him say, “How about saying thank you?” Then baby man smiled at me and I remembered stopping to watch the way the light slowly illuminated the backyard with the dawn as I walked by the window. I remembered the rise and blend of colors in the sunrise as it peeked over the trees. I thanked Him. I am so blessed!

Days come when I struggle to muster up words, divine things to move big mountains, revelations to bend will into submission to spirit. I try to inspire and encourage others and myself with grandeur, love and perspective. Maybe everything would fall into place if I woke up tomorrow and remembered to thank Him.

I write this now when things are good to remind myself on days when life seems ‘not so good’. ┬áHis faithfulness is never dictated by my circumstances. Future self, remember to give thanks in everything!


On Imaginary Leadership

Shadow People

I think I would love to lead a group of imaginary people.

I could preach for hours and imagine their response as they are moved by my words.

I could lead them in worship and see them cry out to the Lord in praise.

I could watch them as they are moved to tears when I hit that ‘big’ note.

I could show them love and compassion.

I could give them imaginary money when they are in need.

I could take them shopping and spoil them a little from time to time.

I could have them over and cook them a splendid imaginary dinner.

See them respond in amazement at my awesome cooking skills. Move over Rachael Ray!

They’d always heed my advise.

I’d always be nice.

They’d always be on time.

My kids would never whine.

They’d laugh at all my jokes.

Nothing would ever begin to feel rote.

As excitement fills the air, I’ll let each one of them share.

Ah, imaginary people would be fun, but I’d never get anything of substance done.