The eve of Thanksgiving. I flop into bed with Romans 8 on my heart, fresh from neighborhood youth Bible study.
And as I ponder, as I set to counting blessings once again, I suddenly see how this one gift makes all others worth counting...
You've read the stories-- Joe Wheeler style.
You know, the ones where some little orphan waits for Christmas, wants nothing more than someone to belong to. Someone to want them.
I've always read them with somewhat of an "awwww!, poor kid." reaction.
But you know, I've recently found out that that poor kid is me.
- - -
I look up from my Bible and my friend's lip trembles, and I catch it in an instant, because my heart does the same.
It's this word-- "Debtor."
I'm a debtor. Romans says so. (and my heart tells me the same.)
I've never seen more selfishness in the mirror in my life. Nor foolishness. Nor pettiness. Nor pride.
A debtor I am.
But right on the heels of this word with such weight, on this eve of Thanksgiving, comes this other word--
I'm a debtor, not because I've sinned, but because I belong.
- - -
My head finds the pillow. My tears join my friend's.
I shake my head in silence, and though orphaned I should rightly be, I fly again at open arms.
And my Thanksgiving prayer is simple:
Thank You for wanting me.
|Thanksgiving tradition: All kids in the kitchen. At once.|
|feast for the eyes|
|best ever: sharing the all-American holiday with Australian friends and sweet neighbors|
|no indians this year...|