Thankfulness

I was flicking through my journal from a few years ago, and found this gem dated 12 December 2011:

Resentment is exactly the complaint that life does not unfold the way we planned; that our many goals and projects are constantly interrupted by the events of the hour, the day, and the year; and that there is no choice other than to become the passive victim of random incidents and happenstance. The movement to gratitude involves the discovery that God is the God of history and that things are quietly and slowly unfolding as they should. My spiritual task is to learn to listen to all that is going on and trust that God's hand is guiding me. Then life is no longer a series of interruptions to my schedule and plans, but rather the patient and purposeful way by which God forms and leads me day by day. Gratitude makes the interruption into an invitation, and the occasion of complaint into a moment of contemplation. Henri Nouwen

So maybe we should all think that it is crazy to be thankful in the midst of crisis, devastation and loss. How can anyone be thankful for THIS? Let's get this straight: I am not thankful that my husband died, or that I've had to go through all of this. However, I am thankful that I have gone through in the company of friends, family and angels who have all held my hand and been there.

There is no way that thankfulness will work if it suspends the reality that life is HARD, and there are plenty of reasons to doubt that God could ever turn things around. But He can, and He does. That is His way.

Ann Voskamp writes about this topic in her blog A Holy Experience. Her book 1,000 Gifts has hit the bestseller lists and is a challenge. She throws down the gauntlet from a place of chaos, struggle and reality. She is not living in an ivory tower like a contemplative. She is a mother of 6 children she home-schools in the middle of Ontario Mennonite country. Her life is hectic. And she comes from a childhood coloured by the tragic accidental death of her little sister - witnessed by her family as she was run over by a car.

Yes, I know. It's an awful mental picture. How do you recover from that? How do we recover from what we've gone through?

Ann maintains that it is thankfulness that does it. Taking the time to look, really look, at the everyday things in life and then to thank God for them. These little things build into a whole new attitude.

And then difficulties come, tragedy strikes. How do we thank God then? How do I believe that things are unfolding as they should when my husband has died, when my home and family have been pulled apart and my dreams have all been ruthlessly broken?

I need to see the "patient and purposeful way by which God forms and leads me day by day". I need to see the invitation in the circumstances.

I never want to turn into Pollyanna. I know Ann Voskamp may have been accused of that. But read what she is saying. Read what I am saying.

I could choose to be bitter. I could lose myself in the thoughts that swirl around my head. It's easy to sink back into them because they come so easily. But the still, small voice is right there, and that is what I need to hear.

Take every thought captive. Wrestle with the enemy by praising the Lord. Why spend your energy on what does not satisfy. Praise and thank the Lord to kill two birds with one stone. Raise your spirit and defeat the darkness at the same time.

I may hit the wall and crumple to the floor, but I will not allow bitterness to take over my life. I will not allow these things to destroy who I am and who God means for me to be one day. I must pour out every ounce of grief until it is all out of me. I don't want infection to form in my heart. I want it all to heal over and be use-able again. It would not honour my husband's life or his death for me to die too. I want to live, even though daily I long for heaven. To be there seems like the greatest desire I have now.

However, this morning my eyes opened, and I was still here. There were birds singing outside. My daughter was clomping around the house. The cat was miaowing outside my door wanting to play. I had to get to work. Yes, reality is still there. My daughter is really tired. I am missing my husband. I found a paper of his, and it brought tears to my eyes.

I want to sit down. I want to give up. But I lift my voice and I speak out the truth. I push the air through my lungs and I put myself in the posture of thanksgiving.

Positioning is so important. You can't get a tan if you aren't in the sun. If I do not place myself in a position where I can praise and see reasons to thank the Lord, then I will sink down. I need others at times to help me remember what I need to be doing, how I need to be thinking.

I will never praise God for the circumstances. I will never see that God gave them to me. Rather, I will see that God has worked gloriously in the deepest and darkest trials to bring gold. He is a Redeemer. He will never fail me. And in the middle of it all, I want to see that. Through the tears, I want to see that.