Practicing Thanksgiving or, Knowing Enough

Life has a balance of its own and it will find you if you sit still long enough. This morning, I wake from a pivotal moment in a dream [a child nudged off a wall by another child], to the sound of a message vibrating on my cell. It is still dark outside though late in the morning and I can not yet tell it is raining in the desert for the third day in a row. What a blessing!

With the part of my brain that was not watching the dream, I am practicing thanksgiving, calling to my own remembrance – as the gospel song has it – all the places He has brought me through. I go further back in time with a newfound perspective on supernatural provision forged last night in bible study. Usually, my mind finds something to be grateful for in the past five or so years because all of each day has seemed graced by His unchanging hand.

I borrow the Hebrew tradition of dayanu, appreciating again, as if for the very first time, that it would indeed have been enough had the Lord only seen fit to give the church friend who gave me a two-bedroom condo full of furniture, free of charge, a generous heart. But the blessing neither began nor ended there, dayanu! He also provided friends with trucks to move it, the funds to feed them dinner and every item to my taste and the color scheme of my dwelling.

From there my mind took me back to the gift of $1000 dollars that completed the goal that enabled me to participate in a three-week class field trip to The Middle East in the early 80s. The donor was also a woman from the church in which I then taught Sunday School. Remembering her generosity, the sparkle of her emerald eyes, I paid it forward decades later, in what would have been considered a desperately dry time while living in Providence. My gift enabled Cuban teens to participate in a Quaker conference that summer. Dayenu.

Flashing still further back, noting what now felt like the supernatural cast to every event in my life, all the way back to my mother’s courageous expedition, sans bebes, to the United States when I had attained the ripe old age of 18 months, I gave thanks like never before for the gifts of provision both seen and unseen from that year. Dayenu, daYEnu!

So if, as Pastor House says and I believe, God is up to something, no matter how harrowing or happifying the conditions, we’ve got more than enough reasons to say, Thank YOU. Dayenu.


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