Gratitude is the gravy which comes before the end of the meal.

Smothering all our blessings,

Resealing them with the goodness that delivered them.

Particularly when we are not expecting,

Or deserving of them.

  

Gratitude is the ability to keep an open heart,

To be thankful, but in a real way,

Not with just a smile or handshake,

But with thanks given from inside, from the soul.

No holdback, no agenda, just thanksgiving.

 

Gratitude is not expecting thanks for your work or deeds,

For then our work is worthless in the eyes of God,

Merely done for glory,

Or some other purpose.

Gratitude is a rush of grace, delivered not expecting payment or reward.

 

Only then we feel gratitude,

Receive gratitude,

And then, like a mirror,

Grace is reflected in the face of the giver,

Who loves you for what you have done, and what you are.

 

So today, let us feel gratitude being here together,

As the Body of Christ,

Celebrating His gift of gratitude, as we give to each other,

And those in need of a retreat, solace, or just a kind, listening ear.

For it is in our outpouring we also receive.

The gift of gratitude, now being coddled and held within us all.

 

Let us leave this place grateful

Grateful for the sun rising,

For the heat in our homes,

The fresh tea on the stove,

And the love of God which dwells within.

Amen

Here I comes again, another daily wish.

This time something which will make my day easier,

An expected compliment,

Some reward, expected, but not too expected.

Like butterflies in my head,

In My own little garden of Eden.  

However, wishes, like butterflies, are often fleeting,

Requested by my ego, to make my life,

Even more perfect.

I often call them hopes as well,

And when I really want them, hopes and wishes.

However, they have little to do with hope,

At least hope as it comes from God.

How long have I misunderstood this,

That hope is confidence,

Not confidence born of me, but of God.

This gift is given freely,

And is always available, unlike my butterfly wishes,

Which often only serve me, even when disguised through petitions.

Turning off the wishes faucet my make me aware of the other source.

 

The one which controls the light in this darkened room.

And fills it with grace and love.