Underthanked

In the midst of a conversation about unfulfilled dreams, my wise friend pointed out that one aspect of her life is nearly perfect. “I have such a great roommate,” she said. “And I admit God goes largely underthanked for that.”

Her cool, new word – underthanked – stuck in my head and didn’t let go. I, too, must admit God goes underthanked for many of my blessings.

I try to make a habit of saying, “I’m thankful.” Unfortunately, I usually follow it with a “BUT”.

As in, “I’m thankful I live in a large, world-class city... BUT commuting takes so much of my time!”

Or, “I’m thankful I’m healthy... BUT I wish I were slimmer.”

And, of course, “I’m thankful for my freedom as a single woman... BUT some things aren’t fun to do by myself.”

So...here’s the start of my new Thank-You-With-No-Buts list.

Thank You, God...
For giving me five terrific nieces and nephews, and for how they’ve changed my life.
For my solid family, and for my parents who’ve been married for 50 years.
For my friends who are so loving and loyal they dropped everything to take care of me when I needed it.
For all the educational opportunities I’ve had – and still have.
For the freedom and opportunity to travel – and safety when I do.
For giving me gifts and skills that I enjoy using – and for giving me enjoyable work.
For giving me very good health – and for allowing me to recover from illness.
For my own home, where I’m safe, warm and comfortable.
That I live in a country which has no war within its borders.
...where I, as a woman, have the same freedoms as men.
... where I can worship openly without fear of persecution.
... where I can trust the law to be mostly just.
... where I can vote... and make a difference.
... where I have excellent medical care available, at hardly any cost.
...and.....
Thank You, God!

-- Reenie

I Don't Want to Forget

I’ve learned some fresh lessons over the past weeks of illness.

I’ve gained a clearer understanding

of how isolating and emotionally debilitating chronic pain is,

and have a new heart-deep empathy for my friends

who deal with invisible pain every day.

My eyes have been opened

to the speed with which sickness or injury

can squeeze a busy, independent, productive, out-going life

into an existence of uncertainty, frailty and fear.

I’ve been jolted alert to the reality

that much of what I usually consider essential-to-my-schedule

is so very, very non-essential.

And I've learned that rest is essential...

as well as wonderful.

I’ve learned that

the presence of God with me is real,

even, or perhaps especially,

when I'm too confused to think anything except,

“Lord, have mercy.

Lord, have mercy.”

I’ve realized over and over again

– as my friends and family members "dropped everything" to take care of me

--that those who say they love me,

really truly do.

And that I have friends with whom I can entrust my life.

Today,

three weeks since my illness began,

I'm cautiously hopeful that I’m starting to get better.

I believe I am getting better.

I fervently pray,

along with those who've prayed so fervently for me... 

that I'll soon be completely, fully well.

When I'm well once again,

when I'm strong,

when I'm productive,

and when the calendar events press in once again...

I'll celebrate my new gratitude for the simple gift of life.

And when I'm well,

when I'm celebrating life...

I pray I remember the lessons I learned in the darkness.

-- Reenie

Small, Dark and Handsome

16 years ago this spring,

I met a dark-haired, dark-eyed, terribly-handsome man,

and I loved him the moment I met him.

In those days, he was even shorter than I am,

and, I admit, quite immature,

but, in time, he overcame those challenges.

Now he towers over me by more-inches-than-I’ll-admit,

and is even more handsome than the day we met.

This special young man is my nephew,

my first and oldest,

and he was a thrice-given gift.

First, God gave him to his birthmother,

who realized that, as a single mom,

she couldn’t raise him as well as she’d want.

So, with a unique blend of love and heartache,

she gave him a second time...

by placing him for adoption with my brother and sister-in-law.

And, generously, on an ongoing basis,

my brother and sister-in-law give their son a third time...

by sharing him with me.

Four years after my oldest nephew,

another small, dark, handsome man joined our family.

He too was thrice-given --

by God, by his birthmom, and by his parents.

I am now the proud auntie of two handsome boys.

I lived for decades before they came to me,

but now I wonder how I could have felt life was complete without them.

My boys and I don’t share the same genetic history,

we have different racial backgrounds,

and my name is not on their birth certificates.

But I am their auntie,

and they are my boys.

I don’t do the hard work of training them,

feeding them,

or making sure their closets contain

pants long enough to cover their ever-growing legs.

But they are my boys.

They are not flesh-of-my-flesh

nor bone-of-my-bone...

but, irrevocably,

for good and for always,

no matter what,

they are my boys.

Nothing,

absolutely nothing,

will ever change that.

Every day,

I thank God for giving them.

Every day,

I’m grateful to my brother and sister-in-law for sharing them.

Today, I also want to say,

”Thank you, birthmoms.”

You made a choice.

For your sons' sake, you made a sacrifice.

Did you also know what a precious gift you were giving to us?

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Thank you for giving me my boys.

To learn more about adoption,

and attend an upcoming seminar
presented by Steven Curtis Chapman
and Focus on the Family,
please see http://www.endthewait.ca/tour/

-- Reenie