I just returned from a lovely trip to the Northwest, to spend Thanksgiving with my sister and her family. It was a long trip, but so worth it.

As I sit here at my computer, I’m thinking of an incident that happened to us on the way up. Our family stopped in northern California to spend the night. Otherwise, that would have been a painfully long trip. We woke up the next morning, ready to drive another nine hours and get to my sister’s house by early evening. We decided we needed to be caffeinated in order to start our journey. We walked into a coffee shop and placed our order. There were about four people ahead of us, waiting for their orders. We all milled around at the other end of the shop, where the baristas were placing people’s orders and calling out names. They seemed a little slow this morning, but we’d gotten an early start, so it wasn’t too bad waiting. We’d been waiting for about ten minutes, when an older man came in and placed his order. After walking quickly passed the group waiting for their drinks, he went directly to the counter where the drinks were being served. I saw the barista place two drinks on the counter, that looked like our drinks. The older man, who just ordered, quickly grabbed the two drinks, and promptly walked out the door with them. I frowned and looked at my husband, “I think those were ours,” I said.

I watched the man walk to his truck, sit down in the cab, take a sip of one of the drinks, then promptly get back out of his truck and come back into the shop. He handed the drinks to the girl and said they weren’t his. I looked at him, a little frustrated. Did he honestly think that as soon as he placed his order, his drinks were there to greet him, ahead of the handful of people already waiting for their drinks? My husband went to stand near him and let him know, those were our drinks and we needed new ones. The older man didn’t apologize, just said that they stuck the drinks in his hands, so he thought they were his. Um, yeah, no, that’s not what happened. The older man demanded he get the drinks HE ordered. Got them, and left. We had to wait another ten minutes before they redid our drinks.

When I was a counselor, years ago, the big buzz word back then, was self esteem. We gotta build these kids’ self esteem. I wasn’t sure what that meant or how you did that. Don’t we all esteem ourselves naturally? Don’t we all think pretty highly of ourselves? The Bible says for husbands to treat their wives as they would treat themselves. The Bible doesn’t seem to think we have an issue with self esteem at all. In fact, the Bible talks quite a lot about how we have too much self esteem and we really need to stop esteeming ourselves so much.

This older man was a perfect example of how the world operates. There’s no thought to others. No thought, but for himself. As long as his needs were met, that was perfectly fine. To quote a famous song, “To know me, is to love me…”

I don’t want to be that way. As a Christian, I’m commanded to not be that way. Christians are supposed to consider others as more important than ourselves. God tells us to. As we enter into this joyous Christmas season, I want to practice what the Bible tells me I need to do. I’m going to try and make sure not to mutter under my breath when someone cuts me off, driving. I’m going to refrain from calling that person a maniac when they cut across the road, cutting off three lanes of cars. If someone steals my parking spot I’m going to think that’s a good thing because walking is really good for me. This will be my Christmas gift to the world around me.

Will you join me in this effort? And if you barge into a coffee shop, and take my drinks that I’ve been waiting for ten minutes for, I will try and not cuss you out under my breath at how insensitive, self centered, and selfish you really are. I won’t do it, I think.

Birdie, birdie in the sky, why’d you do that in my eye? I’m so glad that cows can’t fly.

What is thankfulness? What does it mean to be thankful? Well if you look at the above poem, you see clearly, thankfulness. That’s what thankfulness is, gratitude. The person talking to the “birdie” is so very grateful that cows don’t fly. We are all so very grateful that cows don’t fly. Isn’t that a blessing?

The best definition I could find for thankfulness was “showing appreciation.” The person hit in the eye by the birdie’s business, appreciated the fact that he wasn’t a cow.

This week is Thanksgiving week. We celebrate a time of Thanksgiving, when the pilgrims survived a year in this country. They were so grateful.

The Apostle Paul told us to be grateful. We’re told to pray with thanksgiving, making our requests made known to God.

Phil. 4:6 “Be careful for nothing; but in everything, by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God.”

The believer has so much to be thankful for. Jesus Christ died for our sins. He rose from the dead. He paid the price, that we should have paid. All we have to do is accept Him as our Savior.

This week we celebrate Thanksgiving. What a beautiful holiday. A day just to be thankful. We have so much to be thankful for.

The Bible tells us to be thankful. Having an attitude of thankfulness affects the believer in profound ways. Gratitude brings the believer those feelings that so many search so desperately for. Gratitude brings joy, peace, hope, and love. Don’t we all want those in our lives?

A constant state of thanksgiving, actually alters a person’s mind. It changes their perspective in a good way.

Think about a time when someone else thanked you. A time when someone was so grateful to you. Do you remember how that made you feel? I love it when my kids thank me. It puts a smile on my face.

God owns the cattle on a thousand hills. He gave up His Son for us. The least we can do is give Him our gratitude. We can thank Him. Thank Him for everything: our health, the safe trip we just had, loved ones in our life, answers to our prayers.

Not only this week, but for the rest of the year, I’m going to make an effort to practice thankfulness to God. I’ve done it in the past, and it has dramatically changed my attitude and sense of well being. I wish I didn’t let that slip. Will you join me? Let’s all practice gratitude. And when you do, notice the changes that happen within you. I promise, you will start to feel more joy, more peace, more hope, and more love.

I hope you all have a Happy Thanksgiving this week.

As we are a week away from Thanksgiving, I want to repost this poem I wrote two years ago.  Here’s what I am thankful for:

I am thankful Jesus emptied Himself to come down to Earth to be born a baby.

I am thankful Jesus told His earthly parents He was about the business of His heavenly Father.

I am thankful Jesus gathered around Himself twelve disciples who would take His message everywhere. Twelve men who were willing to die for this message.

I am thankful Jesus obeyed His Father, even though He knew He would die.

I am thankful Jesus never fought back when the Roman soldiers came to take Him away.

I am thankful Jesus stood before Pilot and never argued with Him.

I am thankful Jesus took the scourging that tore open His back.

I am thankful Jesus took the mocking, the crown of thorns and the spit in His face.

I am thankful Jesus took up His cross and tried to carry it to Calvary.

I am thankful Jesus endured the nails in His hands and feet.

I am thankful Jesus hung on the cross.

I am thankful Jesus stayed on the cross.

I am thankful Jesus never stopped it, even though He could.

I am thankful Jesus spoke to the thief on the cross who asked to be remembered and told him, “Today you will be with Me in paradise.”

I am thankful Jesus took His last breath and died.

I am thankful He bore my sins on that cross.

I am thankful He rose from the dead, three days later.

I am thankful He conquered both sin and death.

I am thankful Jesus provided a way for me to be saved.

I am thankful He made salvation easy for me. I don’t have to earn it.

I am thankful He saved me.

I am thankful I have eternal life.

I am thankful the Holy Spirit lives in me.

I am so very thankful.

 

Ihave many war stories about working in a group home and a psych hospital, right after I graduated from college. They weren’t easy jobs. But I grew in my Christian faith as I worked them. Prayer became an important, integral part of my life. Seeing those kids, abused, I knew the enemy was at work in their lives. The enemy was doing what he does best, “seeking whom he could devour.”

My only weapon was prayer. But that is a mighty weapon to have. In my tenure at the psych hospital, I worked between the pre adolescent ward and the children’s ward. Yep, children. Small people, living in a psych hospital with horrific stories to tell of their battered lives. When I realized I was on the forefront of war at this psych hospital, I got to work, fighting the enemy through prayer.

One time, a little girl went off. She was probably about five or six years old. A very small person. And when I say went off, she was so combative, it took five staff members to hold her down: a person at each of her feet, a person at each of her arms, and a person at her head. Little people like to spit and bite, so someone had to gently hold her head so she couldn’t bite anyone. I had one of her arms, and all five of us working together could barely control her. She was so out of control, the nurse was asked to come in to give her a dose of something in order to calm her down. The nurse came in with the syringe and told us we needed to keep her still in order for the nurse to administer the shot. We tried. The child would free one of her legs, and then the staff member had to corral it to get her body still. We were all trying to control the one body part each of us had, to keep this child still. Usually, in these situations, I would pray. But the situation was so chaotic, I couldn’t get my thoughts together to pray in my head. I would start to pray over the child, and then she get a limb free and we’d have to start all over again. Staff members were yelling. The nurse was yelling for us to get the child still. As soon as we thought we had her, she would get free again. The child was so strong. I knew this was a spiritual battle, but I couldn’t pause long enough in my head to pray for the kid.

Finally, I just screamed in my head for God to come to this child. As soon as I did, the child’s whole body went limp. One of the staff members at the child’s foot said finally the nurse got the shot in. The nurse was still standing near the child with the syringe in her hand. She said she hadn’t administered it yet. I smiled to myself. She hadn’t administered the shot, but God had come, because I called Him. He came and calmed the girl down.

Prayer is talking to God. I know you know what I’m saying, but think about it for a minute. Through prayer, we are talking to the very Creator of the universe. We are talking to God. Our voice, our requests have been heard by God. Our utterances have been heard by the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords.

I’m a lowly homeschool mom who lives in raggedy shorts most of the day. I couldn’t get in to see the President of the United States if I tried. Yet, I have the privilege, the honor and the command, to make my requests known to God, Himself. Me, in my raggedy shorts, can speak to the living God. The one who speaks and even the wind and seas obey Him. I have the right and that command. God tells us to cast our cares upon Him, for He cares for us.

And when we pray, we are invoking the very power of God. He makes the crooked places straight. He can sooth our broken hearts. He can fight battles for us, we have no way of fighting by ourselves. He can calm little kids down, who can’t calm themselves.

Christian, if you haven’t already, make prayer the most important thing you do, everyday. God commands us to.

There’s a delicate dance when it comes to parenting. Especially when those adorable little people grow into teens who now have opinions. I think I was a pretty firm parent when the kids were little. I figured I had to eventually unleash them onto the world, so I better make sure they weren’t out of control heathens by the time it was time to free them. My kids complained and said my favorite word was “No!!!” Notice I put three explanation points at the end of that “No?”

When the time did come, when these bigger, opinionated people started voicing their opinions, that’s when I started questioning my parenting. How hard do you push? How firmly do you lay down the law? When does our word as parents, become no longer the absolute law? I questioned myself and wondered when do I lead and when do I let them lead?

An issue that came up was going to church. My opinionated teenagers began hating church. They would think of every excuse in the book, as to why they couldn’t go. It would start on Saturday night. My son might declare to me that he felt his throat was getting scratchy, so he probably won’t be able to go to church the next day. Or, my daughter would say, she was going to be really tired, because she had some high school activity to do and she’d be up late. Therefore, she wouldn’t be able to go to church the next morning.

Or, the kids would save it for Sunday morning and spring it on us when we tried to get them up for church. You know, the element of surprise? I would go and try to wake up the boy. He would groan in his bed and declare he probably had the bubonic plague and that wouldn’t be a Christian thing to do to share his germs with people at church. I would groan and remind him he very likely didn’t have the bubonic plague and to get his buns out of bed before I brought in the iced cold water. Then he would threaten me with crabbiness. If I made him go to church, he would be crabby pants the rest of the day.

My frustration grew. Around this time, a friend of mind invited me to go to her church. So I would go with her to her Thursday Night service. I loved it. One of the first speakers I heard was fantastic, so I decided my family should hear him. My husband and son got to hear this speaker. When my son came home he told us we should start going to THAT church. He really, really liked it. I poo-pooed it off, because I am that dense sometimes.

But my husband heard what my son was saying. And my husband turned to me and said, “You know, if your fourteen year old begs to go to church, we should probably listen to him.”

“Oh!” I said. I told him he was right. I kind of didn’t want to leave the church we were going to. We’d been going for a long time and had lot’s of people we knew there. But my husband’s wise words kept ringing in my head, “You know, if your fourteen year old begs to go to church, we should probably listen to him.” So we did just that. We started going to the church our fourteen year old was begging to go to.

And since that time, I’ve not heard one mention of the bubonic plague or threats of scratchy throats or crabbiness. In fact, two weeks ago, the boy had a swim meet on Sunday. I was following him out of the pool, while he walked with a fellow swimmer. I heard the other swimmer ask the boy if he was joining the team for pancakes at a local restaurant. My boy said no, he couldn’t. When we got in the car, I asked him why he couldn’t go? He said, “Because we have to go to church this morning.” I looked at him, stunned. “Oh, yeah. Wow!” was all I could say.