Thanksgiving

I was once a young girl traveling through an airport when I came across a charming spring green book entitled "Simple Abundance: Journal of Gratitude." I never liked journal writing, and a pretty cover wasn't going to change my mind. Nevertheless, I couldn't resist flipping through the pages. My findings were cruel. Each day of the year was listed with blank lines underneath so that if you missed a day, a permanent scar would be left behind. Cruel, but perfect. It was just what I needed. I couldn't write a lot because there wasn't room, and I couldn't miss a day because I would leave eternal evidence of my failure.
Still avidly averse to journal writing, I decided to follow the title's instructions and make it merely a journal of gratitude. For one year, at each day's closing, I would compose a list of things for which I was grateful. I can still recall the peace that settled in my room: cool night air, the window lit with stars, propped against a pillow on my Grandma's white, wooden, four-post bed, knees propped up beneath my great-grandmother's blue quilt, warm underneath, but still chilled on the outside where my journal lay open and my arms rested in gentle pondering. There was only one rule: no repeats.
I learned that God is ever-giving, I am undeserving, and that gratitude is a very real and great power that can heal a wounded soul.

I want this November to be one of sincere "Thanksgiving." I would love it if anyone who looks at this blog this month would share something that they are grateful for each time they visit. Leave it in any comment column. It doesn't have to be relevant to the post.

I am grateful for the lessons I learned from keeping a gratitude journal.