I'm not blind to the fact that inevitable trials are surely coming, lurking...and I pray that this practice of seeing all as gift is building faith's muscle in me. I see it all around...hurting ones seeking peace, the distressed offering praise. The faith body pointing me towards Him.
So, picking up the light weights and through repetition, I'm growing faith's muscle in these simple thanks.
#792 - 805
running my fingers across the lemon thyme, scent of spring
DIY-er husband, out of love working hard on long-awaited project because i quietly asked with a smile
(sorry if you're grossed out but....)
knowing i'll miss the slurp, slurp, slurp when he's gone
warm soapy water, dishes sparkling clean
her trying to write, "i wrote everyone's names, mommy?"
birds with ferns
the miracle of rising!
the smell of olive oil, crusty fresh focaccia
friends on their way
Celebrating every kind of thanks with you,