The house is quiet; the sun is slowly but very surely starting to reveal its coming. One lone bird has broken the dawn; more will follow shortly. My Divine Hours are prayed. My candles flicker.
It is good to be in the house of the Lord.
Today is Thanksgiving. I wish I were better at giving thanks and “less good” at grumbling. Of seeing God’s goodness in ALL things — and acknowledging that goodness with thanksgiving. Not just in the colors of sunrises and sunsets but in the thousands of ways He reveals Himself through the day. Even the hard places. Maybe especially the hard places, because it’s in those places I see my own ego, my own inability to cope, my own insufficiency and, therefore, often forced to fall upon Him. Shouldn’t that alone be reason to give thanks? Or at least a very good beginning.
The sky has begun to take on the color of an infant boy’s blanket. There are two cardinals on the feeders just outside my window. Squirrels scurry in the distance up a pine tree. Earth itself sits in stillness as if she can’t believe she is the tabernacle of God.
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