There is snow falling in flaky clumps outside, freckling the brown ground. I couldn’t call tonight dreary even if I stretched my imagination to its stretchiest state. The moments are delicious with laughter and Jasmine Green Tea and new things to puzzle.

The blooms of poinsettias and the static-y, sticking up hair in the winter… the Mercury Villager that nearly ran me off the road on 13th street tonight and the whir of the washing machine… the smell of fresh coffee grounds and the safety offered by three comforters on my bed.

Hm. I’m trying to make new habits – to count as blessings all things in my life. Inspired by Ann Voskamp and my close friend, I’m making thanksgiving a habit by living wide-eyed in search of life’s gifts.

A light that turns on by a switch, recycled paper grocery bags to wrap gifts, the welcome company of a dog I don’t even like, a newspaper on the doorstep in the morning – all gifts, these.

What is it that causes us to only count the big blessings? Why don’t the little, menial details of this life qualify?

It is sometimes truly the smallest of details that make up the biggest of blessings.

Sometimes we assume our existence is inevitable. We forget that we are God’s speech – walking, breathing, loving, and savoring sunlight. We are the physical fortitude of divinely penned, intricate poetry. N.D. Wilson‘s “Notes from a Tilt-A-Whirl” speaks about how silly our sense of entitlement appears when we realize we own nothing. We control nothing, yet we presume power.

Are you too important to be amused at your own finitude? Are you unaware that your bowels move daily? How lofty are you?

How lofty are you? Too lofty to admit you are limited?

It’s a good question, and not just for a Sunday School in lecture about being humble, obeying your parents, and doing your chores.

It’s way bigger and way smaller than that.

Naming the symmetry of wooden cabinets as a gift is perfectly acceptable, because how is it that materials can be shaped as such?

Am I above naming the small gifts?

Am I above laughing at the whimsical things in this life that seem to only serve the purpose of God’s divine humor? Am I too lofty to marvel at a delicious drink made from soaking leaves in hot water?

Not that long ago, I felt the Lord leading me beside still waters and making me lie down in green pastures – a very literal slowing of my spirit and schedule. After a bit of a search, I took a position working at a church as an assistant in youth ministry. Today, I added two more employers to that list and now work in three completed unrelated fields (unless “customer service” covers all the bases).

Christ was not too lofty for this life, not too lofty for this skin, not too good for long walks in the desert. Christ made Himself the lowliest when He came as a babe. Our Lord and Savior had daily bowel movements, too.

If God can live inside this skin and still be holy, then there is much to rejoice about that is being forgotten – so many mysteries to have wide eyes to see.

I intend to do just that, Lord willing.

Rejoice in the Lord always, friends!
Search Him and you will know Him, if you search with all your heart.