"The root word of eucharisteo is charis, meaning "grace."........Ecucharisteo, thanksgiving, envelopes the Greek word for grace, charis. But is also holds its derivative, the Greek word chara, meaning 'joy." Joy. Ah...yes. I might be needing me some of that. That might be what the quest for more is all about........a Greek word....that might make meaning of everything?"
These words from Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Gifts remind me to give thanks....with her words she dares me to live fully right where I am. Even Voskamp wondered, "How do we find joy in the midst of deadlines, debt, drama, and daily duties? What does a life of gratitude look like when your day are gritty, long and sometimes dark? What is God providing here and now?"
It's easy for me to praise God for His magnificent masterpieces as autumn unfolds: The rich, golden yellow mums that promise another spring of beautiful buttercups after the blessings of fall and winter, the glorious raindrops of leaves cascading from the sky carpeting the green grass in a blanket of color, the laughter from children, the hugs and kisses from my toddler, the trust she exhibits when she hears a train's horn and says, "Mommy!" reaching for my hand, the husband that works endless hours on multiple projects for ends to meet at home, the brother-in-law that brings mums to us on a crisp fall morning before the sun rises, the brother that helps me budget for a new printer, the prayers and calls, texts, messages and more for my only child, the parents who drive hundreds of miles to spend endless hours with us, the gift boxes I'm able to assemble for Operation Christmas Child, the..........
My list of thanksgiving is endless! Yet, I was absolutely numb through the experience of having to take my only daughter, you, Sophia to LeBonheur Children's Hospital last week. Could I trust the surgery? The removal of the lymph node? Could I give thanks for whatever it may or may not show to your doctors. Tears set at the brim of my lids today. I didn't know how to feel. I could physically see your incision healing in your neck. We even pulled a few of the strips off together earlier in the week but could I give thanks yet. I swept and mopped the kitchen floor today and I wondered, did it even matter? Was it important to leave a clean house behind prior to leaving for Memphis this afternoon for a follow-up appointment. Before closing Daddy's closet door, I let a thought slip by....."Did I need to pack clothes?" I stared at the emptiness of my closet. Should I pack myself something? What did I need? I just asked but I didn't answer. I remained numb. Could I give thanks? Was I prepared for that hard eucharisteo that Ann Voskamp unfolds in her book? I can tell you, I wasn't. I'm not. And tonight I give thanks for Dr. Thompson's words. My eyes. Daddy's eyes. They were all glued to the doctor's eyes. The papers before him. The report he was reading. "Nothing bad. The lymph nodes are just retroactive to a virus. No cancer. No Leukemia." Praise God for his mercy. This gift. This report. As he looked at your incision, he noted that it was healing nicely and that the rest of the strips would come off one by one as they curled. I asked, "So where do we go from here.....what do we do?" He said, "Nothing. It's just viral." I can give praises for this report. I can lift my eyes to the heavens and give thanks. And oh! How I will repeat these praises every day!
One small hearing test followed the good news and it too was great! You can hear ABSOLUTELY everything! Your hearing is perfect too. I praise God for that good report too. Yet, as I praise His faithful provisions for us, I ask, "How can I help? How can we help?" Many, many mothers, children, families must face those hard eucharisteo moments. Is our hearing precise enough to hear what God asks of us?
Thank you Lord for today's report for our little girl, Sophia.
All is grace, charis!
"Ma, ti chara mas edosis simera!" Oh! What grace and JOY you gave us today!
These words from Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Gifts remind me to give thanks....with her words she dares me to live fully right where I am. Even Voskamp wondered, "How do we find joy in the midst of deadlines, debt, drama, and daily duties? What does a life of gratitude look like when your day are gritty, long and sometimes dark? What is God providing here and now?"
It's easy for me to praise God for His magnificent masterpieces as autumn unfolds: The rich, golden yellow mums that promise another spring of beautiful buttercups after the blessings of fall and winter, the glorious raindrops of leaves cascading from the sky carpeting the green grass in a blanket of color, the laughter from children, the hugs and kisses from my toddler, the trust she exhibits when she hears a train's horn and says, "Mommy!" reaching for my hand, the husband that works endless hours on multiple projects for ends to meet at home, the brother-in-law that brings mums to us on a crisp fall morning before the sun rises, the brother that helps me budget for a new printer, the prayers and calls, texts, messages and more for my only child, the parents who drive hundreds of miles to spend endless hours with us, the gift boxes I'm able to assemble for Operation Christmas Child, the..........
My list of thanksgiving is endless! Yet, I was absolutely numb through the experience of having to take my only daughter, you, Sophia to LeBonheur Children's Hospital last week. Could I trust the surgery? The removal of the lymph node? Could I give thanks for whatever it may or may not show to your doctors. Tears set at the brim of my lids today. I didn't know how to feel. I could physically see your incision healing in your neck. We even pulled a few of the strips off together earlier in the week but could I give thanks yet. I swept and mopped the kitchen floor today and I wondered, did it even matter? Was it important to leave a clean house behind prior to leaving for Memphis this afternoon for a follow-up appointment. Before closing Daddy's closet door, I let a thought slip by....."Did I need to pack clothes?" I stared at the emptiness of my closet. Should I pack myself something? What did I need? I just asked but I didn't answer. I remained numb. Could I give thanks? Was I prepared for that hard eucharisteo that Ann Voskamp unfolds in her book? I can tell you, I wasn't. I'm not. And tonight I give thanks for Dr. Thompson's words. My eyes. Daddy's eyes. They were all glued to the doctor's eyes. The papers before him. The report he was reading. "Nothing bad. The lymph nodes are just retroactive to a virus. No cancer. No Leukemia." Praise God for his mercy. This gift. This report. As he looked at your incision, he noted that it was healing nicely and that the rest of the strips would come off one by one as they curled. I asked, "So where do we go from here.....what do we do?" He said, "Nothing. It's just viral." I can give praises for this report. I can lift my eyes to the heavens and give thanks. And oh! How I will repeat these praises every day!
One small hearing test followed the good news and it too was great! You can hear ABSOLUTELY everything! Your hearing is perfect too. I praise God for that good report too. Yet, as I praise His faithful provisions for us, I ask, "How can I help? How can we help?" Many, many mothers, children, families must face those hard eucharisteo moments. Is our hearing precise enough to hear what God asks of us?
Thank you Lord for today's report for our little girl, Sophia.
All is grace, charis!
"Ma, ti chara mas edosis simera!" Oh! What grace and JOY you gave us today!
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