“Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, His mercies never fail, they are new every morning.” Lamentations 3

“As soon as you wake up, before you get out of bed, let your first thought be one of gratitude.” Amit Sood

I’m writing this from a cabin outside of Howard, Colorado.  It’s located about twenty miles east of Salida along the Arkansas River Valley.  My family and I came here for the weekend to our experience our own version of a “Dan in Real Life” weekend.  It’s a delightful movie starring Steve Carrel and Juliet Binochet.  For years we’ve been talking about doing our own version of it, and finally it came to fruition.

We’ve had a lot of fun, done a lot of game-playing that included hide n seek, charades, and a talent show.  By the end of each evening it wasn’t just the grandkids who were worn out, it was the adults as well!  Nonetheless I retained my habit of waking up early to spend some quality quiet time with God.  Yesterday I sat outside in the 39 degree weather to watch the sunrise.  Today there’s a full moon outside softly illuminating the mountain landscape.  It’s quiet.  Serene.  SO peaceful.  A good atmosphere for reflecting. And for being grateful.

I’m grateful for the obvious things, like family; four daughters who have grown into such lovely young women, two son-in-laws who treat them well, and two lively grandchildren who make aging SUCH a delight!  I understand now the unbridled and vicarious joy that comes not only with watching grandchildren play, but playing with them!  I’m grateful for good health, of course, and for the means by which to afford to spend a weekend like this away.  I’m grateful to live in such a beautiful place where it’s only a short drive to be immersed in nature.  I’m grateful for this time . . . these moments . . . that pass too quickly, but last for eternity!

I’m also grateful for everything that had to transpire in order to bring me to this time.  I’m thinking of a scene from the movie “Wild”, which recounts the journey of Cheryl Strayed as she hikes the Pacific Coast Trail.  At the end of the movie (spoiler alert), she is standing on The Bridge of The Gods on the border between Oregon and Washington and she says, “I’m grateful for everything that happened to me, as it brought me to this moment.”  I fully share her sentiment.  But that includes not only the pleasant experiences, but the challenging, soul-stretching and body-bruising ones as well.  The personal crises, the unfortunate events, the times that caused such grief, the many occasions where I felt like I was lost, walking an unknown path, wandering in the wilderness of my own confusion and despair, wondering what was happening and why. . . . asking those questions that have no answers. And even if there were answers knowing that having them wouldn’t change anything. And yes, even railing at God. I think it’s healthy . . . and God can not only handle it–but even invites it!

I’m sure you’ve had such times.  I’m not referring to times of reflection, but the actual times of being pushed to the limit, of wandering and wondering and wishing things were different.  Of stumbling through life’s darkness, disliking yourself, despising others and God. Maybe you’re in the midst of those times now.  There is no escaping such times, no easy exit, no path that suddenly appears to deliver you from the devastation that seems to have descended.  I have no advice, no magic formula, no pithy or pious platitudes to dispense. Personally I’ve found that such drivel that drops from the mouths of others, no matter how well-intentioned, makes matter worse.  What comes to mind is Rilke’s poem that encourages one to fully experience ALL of life, the beauty and the terror, and to keep on going as no feeling is forever. 

I know from personal experience that passing through such crucibles is incredibly painful.  But somehow the dross of such darkness and devastation can refine a person and result in a sense of gratefulness, even a small measure, like what we find in Lamentations. There is a gratefulness not only when one is sitting in the midst of the mountains, surrounded by God’s Spirit in nature and family, but also when one is traversing a trail that is fraught with trials and terrors.  Somehow, in the midst of that passage, personal transformation takes place painful though it may be, and faith is formed. 

I’m going to stop now so that I can enjoy a bit more of the silence before the house wakes up.  Probably a good time to do so, as the song “Be Thou My Vision” just came on my Spotify playlist.  Pretty appropriate.  I invite you to take a listen . . . and reflect . . . and be grateful.