I’m thankful that my youngest son arrives home from his trip to Europe on Saturday afternoon. He’s been travelling there for seven weeks, long enough to make us all extremely happy that he’s coming home. I’m thankful that God kept him safe and healthy while he was gone.
I’m thankful that I worry a lot less than I used to. Does that sound like I’m thanking God for something I do—or, in this case, don’t do? It’s not—not really—because I only worry less because I am more sure of God’s care in everything, even tragic circumstances. And that assuredness is God—worked: I’ve seen him working all things together for my good; I’ve known his upholding hand.
I’m thankful that I’m still healthy and strong enough to tackle the spring yard and garden prep. I’m thankful for good weather—finally, and buds on the May Day tree.
I’m thankful for all the time I’ve had alone over the past weeks. (I’m one of those people who enjoys big chunks of uninterrupted time to read books or work on projects.) I’m also thankful that I haven’t had too much time alone.