Blogger and Writer: Capturing Stories of God's Grace
As a way to say thank you to all my blog readers, I would like to share this free Thanksgiving printable with you, designed by my friend Julie Chen at Life Verse Design. She is amazingly talented, and I encourage you to go to her site to find lovely notecards, inspirational art, plaques, and personalized pieces for your home.
Go to this link to download your printable copy of the piece above.
May your heart (and belly) be full this Thanksgiving! I thank God for each one of you.
I went on my final bike ride of the season a couple weeks ago—one of those sun-kissed days when the light bounces off the red maples and the golden poplars, the sky is an impossible shade of blue, and the air is rich with the smell of earth and bonfires. Every time the breeze blew, the sky rained leaves, the yellow and red confetti falling in fistfuls as I rode.
Of course, at the time I didn’t know it would be the last ride of the year. But here in the Midwest, November is notoriously fickle, and winter has a way of sneak-attacking you.
My husband and I have ongoing discussions about the merits and demerits of fall. He is Mr. Summer, relishing the long, hot days so he can ride his bicycle to his heart’s content. I tell him the things I love about fall, but he shakes his head, unconvinced. As I tick off the highlights of the season—apple crisp, walks in the woods, s’mores over an open fire—he logically points out that you can do all those things in the summer, but with warmer weather and longer days. “Fall is just the warning that winter is coming,” he says.
It wasn’t until I was riding my bike that day that it finally hit me that that’s precisely its appeal.
The particular beauty of fall comes because you know it won’t last.
Summer, with its endless days and languorous nights, its extravagant greens and lush flowers, seems to stretch on without end. But in the fall, reminders are everywhere that this beauty is fleeting. The trees chameleon overnight. Branches shed their leaves in a single storm. The nip in the air arrives out of nowhere one morning. Without warning, it’s time to pull the sweaters out of hibernation.
Here’s what I think: Autumn is God’s reminder to savor.
It’s a wake-up call that no season, no matter how wonderful, no matter how painful, will last forever. Fall is God’s way of saying, “Each day is a gift. Don’t take it for granted—but don’t hoard it either. Just see the beauty of today and soak it in.”
If you find yourself in a season of bliss right now, don’t fear the changing seasons ahead. Savor the gifts of the right-now. And if you are going through a painful season, look for beauty amid the dying. Savor this—yes, even this.
Autumn . . . the year’s last, loveliest smile.
William Cullen Bryant
A few weeks ago I got up early and watched the lunar eclipse, the bright ball of a moon glowing orange in the inky sky. As I stood outside in the predawn, I got to thinking about the night sky . . . a topic I can’t say I’ve pondered much before (then again, I’m not usually pondering much of anything at o-dark-thirty).
The thing about the moon is that it doesn’t have much to commend it on its own. By itself, the moon is little more than a craggy mass of rock. It’s only when the sun reflects off its surface that it is able to light up the night sky. Without the sun, we’d never see the moon at all—not its fingernail-clipping crescent or its full-orbed harvest glow.
And then there are the stars, which march out one by one to the same spot every night. They twinkle from their designated places, glowing modestly from the formations they’ve stood in for generations. Their beauty comes not so much from being the flashiest or the brightest but from where they shine in the dark sky.
When I think about this media-saturated culture we live in, sometimes I wonder if we all feel undue pressure to Dream Big and to Do Significant Things and to Refuse to Settle for Ordinary. And while yes, it’s important to chase after the visions God has planted inside of us, sometimes I think we can get hung up on flashiness instead of obedience.
What if sometimes God wants us to just shine where we are?
If one day the moon decided it no longer wanted to remain in the line of the sun, we wouldn’t benefit from its nightly glow. If a star in the Big Dipper decided it wanted more of the limelight and stepped out of formation, we’d be deprived of its unique display of light.
So maybe there’s a lesson for us in the night sky. We aren’t called to be the brightest or the best—we’re just called to show up in the ordinary moments and reflect the Light.
Today, I urge to reflect his light—right where you are. Show up and shine—right where you are.
He determines the number of the stars and calls them each by name.
Psalm 147:4
Today my dad is being sworn in as a judge. He’d prefer not to have the spotlight on him, and if I tried to say something nice to his face, he would most likely crack a joke. So I’m writing down my words to him instead.
***
Dad, you have always been the one in the stands, cheering for your kids. You still have your “wall of fame” in your office, plastered with yellowed newspaper clippings you saved about our sports events and academic endeavors, along with the calendar we made for you years ago with pictures of us as kids. We’ve tried to tell you that the dates are all wrong now, but you insist on keeping it up.
You were our biggest fan, the dad who would leave work early so he could be there for every game and meet and recital. I always looked up to your spot in the bleachers, and without fail I’d find you there, giving me the secret family signal.
And now here we are in the audience as you stand at the front of the courtroom in a black judge’s robe with your hand on a Bible, so official as you get sworn in.
Before each of my basketball games, you’d give me a pre-game talk. Don’t be afraid to shoot. Be smart. This is your game. Think! The talk always ended with your trademark fist bump. And now, what words can I offer you on this day, as you prepare to discern cases and bring justice to your corner of the world?
I know that God has already given you what you need for this role. I know, because I’ve been on the receiving end of your judicial gifts my whole life. Whenever I had a decision to make, I’d ask you what to do. I was convinced you knew everything, but (to my consternation) you never told me what to do. You’d help me work through it myself and then tell me, “Now go ask your mother.” And whenever I flubbed up, you gave me that rare combination of truth and love, justice and compassion.
So all I have for you in this pre-game moment is a prayer. A prayer that you will lean into this call you’ve been given. A prayer that you will spread your wings inside that judge’s robe and find that it was made precisely to fit you. A prayer that you will have the wisdom of Solomon to get to the heart of things. A prayer that your gavel will be part of making the Kingdom come in this world.
I will be in the stands, cheering you on.
Fist bump.
Thanks to everyone who participated in our discussion of Glitter and Glue, we discussed here. Congratulations to Nancy, the winner of the free book giveaway! (Nancy, I’ll send you a separate message about getting your book.)
Our next book discussion will be about What Alice Forgot by Liane Moriarty.
Here’s the description of the book, taken from the back cover:
Alice Love is twenty-nine, crazy about her husband, and pregnant with her first child.
So imagine Alice’s surprise when she comes to on the floor of a gym and is whisked off to the hospital where she discovers the honeymoon is truly over—she’s getting divorced, she has three kids and she’s actually 39 years old. Alice must reconstruct the events of a lost decade, and find out whether it’s possible to reconstruct her life at the same time. She has to figure out why her sister hardly talks to her, and how is it that she’s become one of those super skinny moms with really expensive clothes. Ultimately, Alice must discover whether forgetting is a blessing or a curse, and whether it’s possible to start over.
Hope you will join us!