A Hard Road Paved with Grace

At a crossroads. That’s where our homeschool journey began. By God’s grace, we felt peace that the public school path was not an option for our soon-to-be Kindergartner. But still two paths remained: private school and homeschool.

A Hard Road Paved with Grace - By Diana Barto

The private school option seemed like the most obvious route, especially since our oldest daughter was already attending preschool at the local private Christian school and enjoying it.

Click here to continue reading “A Hard Road Paved with Grace” over at The End in Mind.

This Day is Golden

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The warm October sun shines vibrantly through our maple tree’s leafy red flags, cautioning me that winter is just a few miles ahead. The season is changing quickly, but I want to play traffic cop. I want to make it park right here next to this red octagon at the end of the street. Stop. Just s-t-o-p. Stop the clock already.

But so many of the other maples are waving their brilliant, glowing yellow flags at me as I drive by. “Slow down!” They cry. “Slow down, pull over, look up and enjoy this beautiful day.”

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The earth keeps spinning, and I suppose time is still going as fast as it always has, from one season to the next.

So why do I feel dizzy? Why do I feel like we are spinning and speeding from one week to the next in a racing blur of activity? In my dizziness, it seems I forget where we are going and why.

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I study my young dancers. These dancers, they spin and twirl and they don’t get dizzy because they fix their eyes on something that isn’t moving. A focal point.

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Yes, Hebrews 12:2. I need to stop spinning in distraction and fix my eyes on Jesus. He’s the steady, immovable One, and His love for me never changes. Colossians 3 says Jesus is seated above at the right hand of God, and that’s where I need to set my heart and mind — on things above.

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Looking up I see that’s where every good and perfect gift comes from. The Father of Lights, He sends these gifts down to us, and unlike the golden leaves on the maple trees, He never changes and He never leaves us.

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So yeah, dancers don’t get dizzy because they know where to focus. And dancers know where they are going because they count. They count the time in each measure of music so they can move with the music. Not way out ahead of it. Not far behind it. With it. To stay with it, they must count.

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So when did I stop counting each day’s gifts? Because counting the gifts from above, the joys, the ways God loves me, that’s what helps me keep in step with Him. That’s what helps me remember where I am going and why. That’s what slows me down.

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Ann Voskamp’s wise words taught me the only way to slow down time.

“Life is not an emergency.

And this, this is the only way to slow down time:

When I fully enter into the current moment with the weight of all my attention, I slow the torrent with the weight of me all here.

Weigh down this moment in time with attention full, and the whole of time’s river slows, slows, slows.

In this space of time and sphere, I am attentive. I am aware. I am accepting the whole of the moment, weighing it down with me all here. This giving thanks for one thousand things, it’s that too, an invitation to slow time down with weight of full attention.” -Ann Voskamp

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Lord, the leaves glow a golden yellow and this day is beautifully golden! Thank You for making this day. Thank You for reminding me that this day is frail and fleeting. Help me slow down. Help me give this day the weight of my full attention and help me love those around me with my full attention.

Thank You for the vibrant fall colors that reflect Your glory. Thank You for these memorable moments with my lively little girls playing in the leaves, dancing in the autumn sunshine and strolling off to their piano lessons. Thank You for Your steadfast love and great faithfulness. Amen.

 

 “This day we’re given is golden; let us show love. This day is ours for one moment; let us sow love. This day is frail – it will pass by. So before it’s too late to recapture the time, let us share love, let us share God, before this day is gone.”  — from Point of Grace’s song “This Day”

 

Honoring My Mother

In honor of my beloved Mama this Mother’s Day, I am re-posting this letter I wrote to her last October — 7,670 days after her death.

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Dear Mama,

Oh, how I miss you. It’s been 21 years today since we said goodbye. Exactly 7,670 days. A small part of me feels like that tragic day was a hundred years ago and happened to someone else entirely, and another small part of me feels like that tragic day was not long ago at all, and I am still a grief-struck teenager wondering how I’ll ever carry on without you to guide me.

I remember a bedtime story you used to tell about a lost traveler. Actually, I don’t remember any details about the main character. Maybe it was a donkey? But I remember the moral of the story was to always know who you are and where you are going.

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Becoming a motherless daughter as a teen made me question who I was and wonder where I was going. God, in His faithfulness, drew me in close to Him and taught me that life’s really more about knowing Who you belong to and where you are going. I am so thankful that I belong to Him and am on my way to heaven. What peace, joy and hope I have in knowing this truth.

Yet the grief of mother-loss still comes in waves. Usually they are small, gentle waves, but even now sometimes the waves of grief can be surprisingly overwhelming. I long ago realized the grief won’t end this side of heaven. But by the grace of God, I am carrying on. Or actually, He is carrying me as I trust in Him to guide my steps.

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Being the mother of two little girls requires lots of guidance and wisdom, and so often I hear the lie that being a motherless daughter somehow makes me unqualified to be a mother. My new verse for fighting that lie is 2 Corinthians 9:8, “And God is able to bless you abundantly, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work.”

I already have all I need to do this job! And being a wife and mothering these girls is a lot of work. It’s good work, but work indeed. I cannot imagine anyone else I’d rather spend my days with.

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And I am thankful that you met and loved Michael, even if you didn’t know back then that he would become my husband. He still re-tells the blonde jokes and OSU jokes you told him, and he laughingly recounts the time you told him sailboats only move by continental drift. He’s a wonderful husband and a great daddy.

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One of my deepest longings is for you to come to our house and meet our sweet little girls. These two lovely granddaughters of yours, each is her own dear and special person.

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But oh, how they both remind me so very much of you with their piano-playing, book-consuming, chocolate-loving passions.

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The oldest daughter is almost 11. I remember you always said that was the perfect age, and now I understand why. She’s so helpful and sweet. She has your big, dancing-blue eyes, beautiful, mile-long smile and slender little legs. She looks so much like the pictures we have of you as a little girl, and she fills our house with the snip-snip of scissors and the low steady hum of the sewing machine. I remember those sounds filling up your bedroom when you were sewing me a new dress or teaching me how to make a pillow. How I wish you could spend a day sewing doll clothes with this daughter. For the longest time it was too painful for me to sew with her because that was something you and I did together and I just didn’t feel confident without you. But this girl, she is a fearless seamstress with such nimble little fingers. Just a few weeks ago, she encouraged me to help her make her little sister a doll for her birthday.

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What fun we had picking fabric, stitching things together and being sneaky about the entire project so her sister wouldn’t find out.

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The youngest daughter just turned 8 and she has your big, dancing-blue eyes, too. Her hair is the same beautiful caramel-strawberry blonde as yours, and you’d be delighted to know that hers is naturally curly, as you always so desperately wished yours was. Like you, this girl is quick with numbers – and she especially likes double-checking her math worksheets on her new adding machine. Give her a little more time with that thing, and I can just imagine the rolls of adding machine paper cascading like a waterfall across our schoolroom table, just like the rolls of paper flooded the floor of your office on busy days. This daughter’s sense of humor reminds me of yours; she loves telling jokes and has a quick wit that catches me and her daddy off guard sometimes. At church the other day, when our pastor was talking about us becoming more like Jesus spiritually but not physically, she grinned and quipped, “That means we don’t have to grow beards.”

I guess that’s the sum of what all these 21 years of motherless days adds up to – your own little girl growing up to be a wife and mother and, by the grace of God, becoming confident that He who began a good work in me will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.

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I love you, Mama, and I can’t wait to see you on that glorious day.

Hugs and kisses,

Diana

The Sun of Righteousness Arose

“Ay, but when we go down, down, down, is it not a blessed thing that Jesus Christ of the seed of David died, and was raised from the dead? If I sink right down among the dead men yet will I hold to this blessed hope, that as Jesus rose again from the dead, so also shall my joy, my usefulness, my hope, my spirit rise.” -Charles Spurgeon

I walk down to the dock just after 6 a.m. on Easter to find a thin blanket of fog shrouding the lake.

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All is calm. No wind. No waves. The water is a glassy mirror, a perfect reflection of the sky above.

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The only movements are the ripples the ducks make gliding across the water.

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A red-winged blackbird perches atop a new birdhouse built for the wood ducks. He stands tall and attentively, singing his happy, trilling song. Oh, for a thousand tongues to sing in praise right along with him.

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But in the stillness, in the waiting for a glimpse of glory, I catch a whiff of something downright rotten. Floating among the cattails are dozens of dead carp — fish that didn’t survive being down, down, down below the thick ice of this deeply frozen lake.

Up they have come now with the thaw, and this stench of death is foul. Charles Wesley’s words keep coming to mind.

“His blood can make the foulest clean, His blood availed for me.”

I was once dead in my sins and stinking something awful, worse even than the rotten stench of these dead fish.

But because of His great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved.” Ephesians 2:4 

Oh, the triumphs of His grace this Easter morning!

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The light fog starts to lift a bit. And the sun rises, and all I can think of is the glory of how the Son rises, too. The Son rises, too. The Light of the World.

I see all the glory of it above me and the perfect reflection of that glory here below.

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“On this glad day the glorious Sun of Righteousness arose…”

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“Glory to God, and praise and love be ever, ever given, by saints below and saints above, the church in earth and heaven.” Charles Wesley 

The Story of Two Little Hands

“May the favor of the Lord our God rest on us; establish the work of our hands for us— yes, establish the work of our hands.” Psalm 90:17

On March 23, 2003, we dedicated to the LORD our firstborn. During the ceremony that Sunday morning, just before her daddy played Jeff Deyo’s song “These Hands” on acoustic guitar, I read a letter to her. Here is part of that letter.

Today is your dedication day, and we praise God for what a blessing you are to our family. You are three months old and just figured out that you have HANDS! You bat them at toys, try to hold your bottle with them, and just love to put them in your mouth and slobber all over them. Most of time, though, you clasp them together and just stare at them as if to say, “What are these for?”

Before too long, these hands of yours will be coloring and tying shoes and learning to do lots of things. But our hope today is that someday your hands will point to God’s greatness and praise Him.

You see, God’s hands created the heavens and the earth and everything in it. And not too long ago, His hands created you. God loves you and cares for you and has a specific plan for your life.

We praise God for you. Always remember how much we love you, and that the ultimate purpose of your hands is to praise God.

In the meantime, don’t eat those hands! You’ll need them for later!

Those two little hands, she didn’t eat them after all. And since that day I’ve so often held them in my own. I’ve washed them. I’ve dried them. I’ve clipped the fingernails and polished those all shades of pink. I’ve squeezed one or both into my own warm pocket when little mittens were forgotten. I’ve kissed them. I’ve helped them fold together in prayer. I’ve showed them how to turn book pages gently. I’ve taught them to hold a crayon, a pencil.

I’ve watched them reach way up to pick apples from trees.

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And I’ve watched them reach way down to pick up sand dollars and seashells from Atlantic and Pacific beaches.

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I’ve taught them how to fold towels and t-shirts. I’ve taught them how to button buttons and zip zippers. I’ve seen them work puzzles, dress baby dolls, fill tea cups, and dribble basketballs. I’ve watched them write the alphabet in print. And then I’ve watched them learn the alphabet all over again in cursive. I’ve held the left one delicately as the right was wrapped up tightly in a cast for a broken arm. I’ve watched them paint flowers and stitch doll clothes and knit scarves.

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I’ve watched them kindly hold her little sister’s hand in the backseat of the minivan. I’ve taught them to wash dishes and wipe down countertops. I’ve watched them gently behold the wonders of God’s creation.

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I’ve watched them clasped together and dripping with lake water on baptism day.

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And I’ve watched them gracefully glide across the ivories day after day…

Week after week…

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For more than five years now those hands have made music.

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Oh, those sweet little hands and I have been ever so busy together. And God has lovingly and faithfully held these little hands and mine in His mighty hands. He held each and every moment. He held us by grace.

And yesterday — 11 years and seven days after her dedication day — He called those little hands to bravely do what I never imagined them doing when I wrote that dedication letter so many years ago.

Yesterday those little hands went to church and played “Glorious” right along with the worship band. And then the band left those little hands all alone at the keyboard, left my firstborn perched high on a barstool, like a songbird ready to sing. And those beautiful little hands played “Amazing Grace” for the offertory.

And even when her foot struggled to reach the pedal below and those slender fingers pulsed with frustration and momentarily lost their way across the keyboard. Even that moment was all grace. Those sweet little hands just stopped and played it again from the top — “Amazing Grace.”

How sweet was the sound as the little fingers met the keys, the notes sang out beautifully, and the joyful noise of it all filled the whole room.

An answered prayer, a moment of grace, an offering and a gift.

Oh little hands, may you continue pointing to God’s greatness, may you continue praising the One whose hands made you!

“May the favor of the Lord our God rest on us; establish the work of our hands for us— yes, establish the work of our hands.” Psalm 90:17

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Magical Appearances

Today God decorated the trees for Christmas — in such a magically, snowy way!

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Yesterday we had no snow to speak of. But today my girls disappeared in the deep piles out front. They played for hours and hours.

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Thankfully, hot cocoa makes them magically re-appear in an instant.

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This little junco, who much preferred the birdseed-covered pinecone over hot cocoa, kept magically re-appearing, too. I think he enjoyed having his picture taken.

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Other hungry birds appeared and re-appeared at the feeders — cardinals and juncos mostly. This plump cardinal rested on a nearby tree branch and kindly waited for his turn.

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And did I mention the amaryllis is blooming this week?

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I love bulbs that magically turn into beautiful blooms in the depths of winter.

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Any magical appearances in your neck of the woods today?

Hunting for 10,000

The frigid November air pierces right through your bones. The forceful, whirling wind blasts on and on with a long, lonesome howl.

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The trees, so gloriously ablaze with color just yesterday, now stand bare and thin and gray.

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And in the front yard, 10,000 leaves pile up shin-deep, each a sorrowful reminder of how dry and lost this month feels.

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November can make life seem dull. It can make your heart feel as cold as the wind and your soul feel as dark and bare as the tree branches. And we must decide: To complain or to be content? To grumble or to be grateful? To reject the entire eleventh month or to receive every moment of it with thanksgiving?

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Will our minds and mouths choose to thank God for all His goodness, even when His goodness doesn’t feel warm and green and vibrant? Even when His goodness feels brown and bare and bitter cold?

In his song “10,000 Reasons,” singer and song-writer Matt Redman encourages us to keep singing praises to God – whatever may pass and whatever lies before us – because God has given at least 10,000 reasons for our hearts to find.

So forget the deer. Forget the Black Friday sales. Forget that Pinterest search. What are you really hunting for this November?

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Go on an easy hunt for God’s abundant goodness – it is piling up higher and deeper than those 10,000 fallen leaves.

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Look around you and see what reminds you of God’s love for you. Is it a steamy cup of hot cocoa that warms your hands?

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An unexpected note from a friend who brightens your afternoon? A glimpse at the setting sun glowing through the clouds?

Whatever makes you smile, whatever is pure, noble, lovely, excellent or praiseworthy, that’s a gift from God. That’s a reason to thank Him.

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This Thanksgiving, let’s be truly thankful. Let’s start a hunt for God’s goodness. Let’s find 10,000 reasons, and let’s thank Him like never before.

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Thank God for Dirty Laundry?

And so this is the post in which I air some of our family’s dirty laundry. That is, if posting pictures of dirty laundry counts as airing it.

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Everybody has dirty laundry, but some of us do have bigger, stinkier piles than others. Just imagine the big, stinky pile of laundry the Pilgrim women faced on their first “wash day” once the Mayflower finally reached land. After several months at sea, and with so much sickness on board, the foul smell must have been unbearable.

I remember my own wash days being especially loathsome when my daughters were very young and nearly every day was wash day. And nearly everything I washed was small, pink and heavily stained in multiple places. Or it was large and wet and demanding my attention in the middle of the night.

Somewhere along the way, these two little girls started helping me sort and fold more and more clothes, and slowly I began to dread the piles less and less. And then somewhere along the way, God gave me the wildest encouragement in regard to dirty laundry.

Be thankful for your dirty laundry.

Thankful? For dirty laundry? Clean laundry, yes. But the message was to be thankful for the dirty laundry. Really?

Yes, really.

This load of wild encouragement was washed brighter with the perspective that not having dirty laundry would mean we have no clothes. Some families we know in Ethiopia are hardly able to clothe their children. It is only by the grace of God that my children, my husband and I have any clothes to wear. It is only by the grace of God we have this pile of dirty clothes that fit our bodies and keep us warm.

Be thankful for your dirty laundry.

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This wild encouragement to thank God for dirty laundry was also rinsed in the perspective that all the moms we know in Nicaragua wash their family’s clothes in a nearby river. It is only by the grace of God that my family has clean, hot water, scented detergent, a washing machine, a dryer and baskets to contain the pile. It is only by the grace of God that I have hands and arms and legs capable of hauling those baskets to and fro, switching those loads in and out, and folding those endless piles of clothes.

Be thankful for your dirty laundry.

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Tumbling around with this wild encouragement was also the thought that half of this laundry keeps getting regularly exchanged for the next size up. Those little arms and legs and feet who wear it are growing. Someday those legs and feet will walk right out the door and move into apartments near laundry mats or even homes of their own, with washers and dryers of their own. The responsibility of scrubbing grass stains out of size 6x Levi’s was only available to me for a limited time, a time that I should treasure. Someday the baskets won’t be nearly so full.

Be thankful for your dirty laundry.

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So yes, as wild and backward as it seems, I’m really thankful for our dirty laundry. And somehow, being grateful for stinky mismatched socks and stained hand towels fraying around the edges makes the mundane task a little more meaningful. The next cycle, then, is to determine what to do with such gratitude for dirty laundry.

Do I neatly fold up my gratitude and try to somehow save it for the next season?

Do I carefully hang up my gratitude for a special occasion?

Author Ann Voskamp asks,

How are you changing the world because you are so grateful? What if gratitude always meant a question mark — asking how will you let your gratitude to Christ mark the world for Christ?”

How can I change the world today because I am so grateful?

Maybe I can gather up clothing items for this — The Big Bundle Up — to benefit our neighbors in Wisconsin? Or gather coats for the local coat drive? Or maybe I could make a donation to Forgotten Children, a ministry that collects, packs and ships used children’s clothing overseas to help orphans truly in need of these basic necessities.

How can I wear my gratitude today for the glory of God?

How will you wear your gratitude today?

“Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity. Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom, and as you sing psalms, hymns and spiritual songs with gratitude in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him.” -Colossians 3:12-17

 

For All His Goodness

Here are 40 more reasons I’ve found to praise God and thank Him for His goodness:

1. the amaryllis bulb the three sweet neighbor boys brought to us yesterday

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2. golden sunshine lighting up the trees

3. steaming hot soup

4. Rachel Jankovic’s book, Fit to Burst

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5. a cozy room filled with half a dozen homeschool mamas

6. candles on the dinner table

7. graceful exercises at the ballet barre

8. the howling wind that wakes me in the middle of the night

9. a down comforter to snuggle beneath

10. how lovely she plays “Drifting Leaves” from memory

11. nearly half a dozen kids discussing Wendy Lawton’s book Almost Home and sharing what they are most thankful for

12. juncos, chickadees and cardinals at the backyard feeder

13. the scent of banana bread lingering in the kitchen

14. piles and piles of leaves to rake

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15. a fun road trip with friends

16. the Hearts at Home Conference

17. how he does dishes and holds down the fort while I sneak away

18. the kind friend who offers me a ride to the evening meeting

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20. Philippians 2:1-11

21. the dear friend’s birthday celebration

22. homemade coffee cake on the first snowy morning of the season

23. snow in the tree tops

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24. woodpeckers re-appearing in the trees

25. comfy boots, sweaters, and scarves

26. Ephesians 5:16-20

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27. the toaster malfunction that didn’t burn down the house and the prompt arrival of a replacement toaster

28. the internet service that’s finally restored

29. how the 10-year-old adores the Adventures in the Northwoods series

30. how the 8-year-old adores the Milly-Molly-Mandy books

31. the orthodontic retainer that still fits her sweet little mouth

32. squirrels leaping from tree to tree

33. mugs of hot chocolate and a plateful of German puff pancake

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34. Hebrews 12:28

35. the soothing aloe vera plant that reminds me of my Grandma Lee

36. construction paper pizzas

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37. how missionary stories encourage and inspire them

38. the ability to somehow parallel park that Ford F-150 in downtown on the first attempt

39. leftover chimichangas

40. balloon games

Oh, How He Loves Us

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Because He loves us, I’m thanking and praising God today for these gifts:

1. His eternal power

2. His divine nature

3. His holy word

4. vibrant colors in the maple tree and hollow oak tree

5. safe travels home from afar

6. the friend who helps with a late-night run to the airport

7. new rakes and big piles of leaves

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8. little fingers dancing across the keys on Sunday night

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9. Legos, Legos and more Legos

10. homemade tortilla soup

11. hot cinnamon sunset tea

12. David Crowder’s song, “How He Loves Us”

13. His name, “I AM”

14. Sunday afternoon naps

15. the book we just finished reading about the Mayflower’s Mary Chilton: Almost Home by Wendy Lawton

16. treasures found at a used book sale

17. new slippers and soft warm hats from Hanna

18. Hershey’s miniatures

19. warm grey socks

20. kind new faces at Sunday School

21. BBQ leftovers for tomorrow’s lunch

22. new mugs and soup bowls

23. the roar of the wind

24. the steady rustling of the leaves

25. a full tank of gas

26. an extra hour of sleep

27. homemade strawberry crepes

28. their tie-dye shirts

29. the first three chapters of A Million Little Ways by Emily P. Freeman

30. hot cocoa