I was young in the third grade at a good Christian school when Miss Martin told us that we sinned a hundred times a day. Maybe she actually said hundreds of times, being vague. I blithely lived my day but remembered at night, when I lay me down to sleep. Oh, a hundred? Father, forgive…
I didn’t make it past 10.
It worried me and finally I asked him to forgive the rest although I couldn’t count the 90 more.
I’ve figured since that she didn’t mean exactly one hundred, no more no less.
I’ve also figured I could ask God to bring to mind the things I did wrong, so he could show me and I could confess and be forgiven, washed clean.
My hundred sins, God’s thousand gifts.
I had a strange thought this morning, shouldn’t we be able to count one thousand gifts of God in a single day? Every day? Only, to write them all out would cramp the muscles. But to thank him would lift the heart.
Maybe I should start small, the ten percent of my third grade self, writing a hundred and looking for the thousands. That’s not small, 100 gifts, and my hand would still tire, my jotting would be concise. But my heart would fill.
Puppy at my feet
cat on my lap
tea in the pot
a cup at my spot
computer to write on
keys with verses on the chain
tissues for blowing noses
recliner by the computer
fleece for protecting it from cat claws
and for cozying up under
candle for evening prayers
snuffer so pretty from World Market
lamps like in Tsh’s picture, offset
the red leather couch
blue couch with
pillows that pop out pretty
keyboard for night worship
Grandpa in kitchen making his morning breakfast
although sick day, can still do some school
God in charge of timing
That’s the first 25 of today, all before 10a.
I believe I could see a thousand in a day if I keep looking and thanking God. It’s time to take it offline, but praising him for these many gifts and these glasses I look through.
(Picture by Ravinia Lee.)
Glasses of thanks and praise that keep my heart in focus.