The wall started white. A blank canvas beckoned.
We mark the entrance to our home with thanks to Him. The rebellious act of scribbling on the wall redeemed by His grace in an act of penitence. Our sin redeemed by His love. Our hearts purified as we enter His gates with thanksgiving.
The first thanks: books, snakes, my children, and three prayers.
Thanks grew as a tree does. Friends coming and going added their thanks to ours. Thanks given in community ministers grace to the givers. Some approach the wall with timidity and say with their mouths, “I feel uncomfortable writing on the wall.” Yes, breaking from the routine to say thanks can make one uneasy. Facing the wall and taking action does not come easy to all. Others grab up a marking tool and jump up and down in front of the opportunity before them. “How many can I do?” They beg to pour out permanent thanks. Not surprisingly the youngest ones, and the ones with childlike hearts, are most prompt to spill out heartfelt thanks. Shorter lives make for longer thanksgiving. How can that be when longer lives have had more time to be filled with blessing? I must decrease and become like my short ones so that He might increase.
Love, the word most often inscribed by many hands and hearts. Unintentional, yet we know Who intended it. The One who first wrote love on our hearts.
And a final look at the whole wall on this Thanksgiving Day. If you come to our home, please add your thanks to this gratitude collection.