Some days I’m plumb full of thankfulness, for all these little things. Like how I’ve got all this blue right above my head and that the yard is full of leaves and the day is still warm. And how there’s this big field just across from where I live, and that my two little ones still take a nap so I can rest, or write, or pray, or just think.

And I’m thankful I can breathe, in and out, deep breaths and there’s no pain. And my legs are strong and sturdy and I can run if I want, or skip or twirl. And that I’ve got all this freedom and the loud noise outside my window isn’t a sound of war or something scary, just my neighbor Doug, off to work on his motorcycle.

And I’ve got these eyes to see. To take in all the light and to marvel at the last blazing shades of yellow or bright crimson red, still clinging to the tree. And I can make coffee, warm, and hold it still in my cup, tilt it back and drink it up, last sip full of sugary sweet.

And I’m thankful we can vote and that we don’t have to agree and no matter what tomorrow brings, I’ve got God and He is peace. And I can read His Words and hear His voice and see His glory sometimes out in the yard, and sometimes right at the kitchen sink, because He is alive and real and He wants to be found.

And so long as I have breath and His joy deep down, I plan to keep being thankful and let the praise spill out. Because I was made to praise and to whisper thanks and if I don’t, He says the rocks would cry out. But, even now, I think I hear them–that hallelujah shout.

The world’s a crazy mess, but He is good. And everything He does is good. He makes my heart so full, it spills right out. Just so much thankfulness, for all these little things.