It took awhile for me to shake the sleepy daze this morning. I wasn’t up much earlier than the kids this time but my delay made for some good snuggles as they rolled out of bed and found me still in pjs.

I already feel behind and wonder if I will master the day or if it will master me.

Still, taking the time to reflect has set my heart down a path of thanksgiving:

11. Life lessons. Discipline for Caleb already this morning. A loving father steps in to take his punishment. A rebellious heart tastes grace. A watching mom remembers that Jesus stepped in to take her place. I owed the debt but He paid the price.

12. Time. Time this weekend to breathe and work on our family scrapbook. My heart has been flooded with sweet memories of summers gone by.

13. Baby James. He’s not “out of the woods” but he’s here and Jenny is healing. My heart was touched as I watched people surround their family with care and prayer and encouragement. The Body in action is a beautiful thing.

14. Vulnerable hearts. I am continually awed by the way God will work through humble, teachable people. Hard life circumstances become the gateway to much better things as brokenness is embraced and lives are transformed.

15. Phones. Usually I complain about them. Now that my parents live 12 hours away, I see them in a new light. It’s not the same as chatting over tea on Shermanwood Drive…but my phone allows me to at least talk to Mom and get glimpses of her heart.

Pausing to give thanks washes my day with fresh perspective. Perhaps instead of worrying about mastering my day, I should just let Him master me…

Our son, Caleb, recently returned from the trip of a lifetime. When each grandchild turns 10, Rick’s mom takes them on an international trip of their choice (good thing she only has 4, huh?!?!). Caleb chose a trip to Italy. Their tour centered on Rome but also took them to Naples and Sorrento. In the process, of course, they spent time on the Amalfi Coast.

Mom McKee was trying to describe for me the beauty of the Mediterranean and the coastline. Words seemed to fall short as she tried to paint a picture for me. As we talked, it occurred to me that God made these places. He imagined them and spoke them into existence. If these places can leave us in such awe, what does that say about Him?

I think Dallas Willard expresses the thought much better than I can. Please join me in reading on and then in worshiping the One who “is simply one great inexhaustible and eternal experience of all that is good and pure and beautiful and right.”

“While I was teaching in South Africa some time ago, a young man named Matthew Dickason took me out to see the beaches near his home in Port Elizabeth. I was totally unprepared for the experience. I had seen beaches, or so I thought. But when we came over the rise where the sea and land opened up to us, I stood in stunned silence and then slowly walked toward the waves. Words cannot capture the view that confronted me. I saw space and light and texture and color and power…that seemed hardly of this earth.

Gradually there crept into my mind the realization that God sees this all the time. He sees it, experiences it, knows it from every possible point of view, this and billions of other scenes like and unlike it, in this and billions of other worlds. Great tidal waves of joy must constantly wash through his being.

It is strange to say but suddenly I was extremely happy for God and thought I had some sense of what an infinitely joyous consciousness he is and of what it might have meant for him to look at his creation and find it “very good.”

We pay a lot of money to get a tank with a few tropical fish in it and never tire of looking at their brilliant iridescence and marvelous forms and movements. But God has seas full of them, which he constantly enjoys.

We are enraptured by a well-done movie sequence or by a few bars from an opera or lines from a poem. We treasure our great experiences for a lifetime, and we may have very few of them. But he is simply one great inexhaustible and eternal experience of all that is good and pure and beautiful and right…This is his life!”

God, sometimes we’re tempted to box You up in our nice terms and we forget that “this is your life.” Give us fresh perspective so that we might adore You anew.  

- excerpt taken from Dallas Willard’s book, The Divine Conspiracy (chapter 3)

“Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow.”  – Melody Beattie

I am continuing along with my desire to cultivate a grateful heart. It’s so easy to do the contrary and get caught in an unhealthy cycle. How often do I listen to complaining, critical conversations? How often do I participate? We don’t like the weather. We wish we had nicer “stuff”. We don’t like the decisions our leaders make. We expect more from our spouses or our children. On and on it goes.

We live in a fallen world. Of course, we have unmet expectations, dreams, desires – we were created for more. And, yet, we can anticipate heaven with hearts full of God’s bounty today. Circumstances and difficulties do disappoint but God’s goodness does not. The paradox of our faith: His kingdom is coming but it’s also a present reality!

So, today I’m pausing to reflect on a bit of that goodness. (This is a continuing list that I started when I joined the Gratitude Communitiy on April 23 . The challenge that was posed to me is to keep adding until I reach at least 1,000.)

6. My sisters. I love living life with them and enjoying not only a common bond in family but a shared love for Jesus. Already this week, they have challenged me, loved me, and revived me. This decade of our thirty-somethings is the best yet. (Yes, I can still count myself in their decade for another year!!)

7. The gentle summer breeze that we have had these last few days. It’s so refreshing!

8. Dark-chocolate, peanut butter ice cream from Katie’s Corner in Kent. Especially when it’s enjoyed with my three favorite people in the world. I love walking up there on a summer evening with the fam!

9. My new favorite place in our yard. Two adirondack chairs in the corner under the birch tree…with an iced coffee in hand, it’s a perfect spot for solace and reflection! My Bible and journal have found a cozy “home” next to the potted geranium in the middle of the chairs.

10. Time at the lake with my sister’s family. Maddie jumped off the diving board into 8-foot water for the first time ever (despite her fears) – she was so proud and I truly loved rejoicing with her in that moment.

How fitting and right it feels to pause with a grateful heart. May my life continue to be sprinkled with reminders of the goodness of God that is all around me.

Just a note, This post is part of a larger experiment by one of my favorite bloggers, Ann Voskamp at http://aholyexperience.com. When I stumbled on her challenge to choose gratitude, I was moved. If you’re similarly inspired, you’ll want to visit her “Gratitude Community.”

“What a refreshing time.” “Such neat group of people.” “I’m so glad we went.”

Such was our conversation as we got back in the car last night. We were tired from a long week and it was late but all of that seemed to fall away as we talked. We were so encouraged and grateful. Hearts happy. Tanks full. What was it that had us so jazzed? A masterful concert? A blockbuster movie? A grand fireworks show? Nope. Not that there is anything wrong with those things, but this was nothing like that. It was nothing fancy. Not a big event. Just a group of people in a home in Tallmadge, Ohio. Talking, studying, snacking, laughing. Sharing life. 

You see, Rick and I are taking time this summer to visit the various Community Groups in our church. They’re really just a slice of Crossroads Community Chapel. Little windows into the bigger family of our church. They meet in homes, pray together, study the Bible, and share life. With all the transitions of starting a new church campus we haven’t gotten in a group ourselves just yet and are, instead, enjoying this time to visit the others.

Last night was our first, and I left so refreshed. As I sat there and looked around the room, I thought about how nice it is to be in someone’s home. There’s just a comfort and vulnerability that seems to happen when you’re sitting in someone’s living room.

Then, when we opened the Bible, the discussion was rich and vulnerable. We were looking at a passage in Paul’s letter to the church in Philippi. It’s this beautiful, deeply challenging portion about Jesus’ humility as He emptied Himself and willingly died on a cross. Before we knew it, two hours had passed. The discussion was so rich that the leader had to prod us along to bring us to closure. Great questions unfolded as we studied the passage and wrestled not only with the Truth of Jesus’ life but the implications that life has for us. The stage was set as one man led out and shared about a time this week when he had failed to lead his family in humble service. Others opened up and we talked about how hard it is to follow Jesus’ example when we’re all so insecure in our own lives.

I was challenged as I considered my own heart. The Bible has a way of leaving me simultaneously undone and hopeful. I am continually amazed by its power.

But, the thing that was so especially encouraging in this instance was that I left with a sweet glimpse of their hearts. I’m in a totally different phase of life than most of them. I already knew some of them better than others. I was meeting one couple for the first time. How often would we normally cross paths with this collection of people in the day to day of my kid-focused life?

And yet, here we were. Tied together by the grace found in Jesus. In a home in Tallmadge, Ohio; talking about more than the weather or Cleveland sports or the best price for produce. We were sharing the deeper things of life and something beautiful was happening. When Rick and I had to leave at 11 p.m. to relieve our kidsitters, the rest of the group was still standing around talking. Something beautiful indeed.

This is our church. Meeting in a converted warehouse. Temporary canvas sign out front. Borrowed parking next door. Simple spaces.

This is our church. A young father showing up just after sunrise to set-up and practice with  his band of volunteers. Sound checks. Running through the worship set yet again. Hearts to do more than perform songs but to really lead in worship. Circling up to pray before the rest of congregation begins to trickle in.

This is our church. Faithful deacons and ministry leaders getting their own families ready early and leaving their homes an hour earlier than usual so that they can help others encounter the Living God. Turning on lights and air conditioning, pulling out boxes of welcome materials, setting up tables for coffee, preparing children’s ministry rooms, arranging for communion. A myriad of to-dos that most people will never consciously notice. Sacred tasks. No one worries about whose job it is to do which task, each one jumps in to help the other and camaraderie grows.

This is our church. Sweet worship rising up to heaven as regular, everyday people pause to acknowledge the One who made them. Nursery volunteers snuggling sad toddlers. Kids singing so loud that we can hear them in the next room when we pause between songs. A pastor praying with a tender heart for his people. All pausing to remember the blood and broken body of our Savior. Opening our Bibles to the book of Galatians to continue our series. Desperately praying that the Gospel really would go deep. That we would abandon our bricks for the Cross.

This is our church. One couple holding hands as they stand and sing…their sweet infant son in the car seat beside them. Another couple barely able to sit together because the pain in their marriage is so great. Families who have lived in Northeast Ohio their whole lives. Others transferred in and learning to make it home. Still another preparing to move out West this summer. Some with a full brood of children. Others with hope deferred, seeking God for a fruitful womb. Singles. Marrieds. Empty nesters. All learning to find God in all the seasons of life. He is there.

This is our church. Fledgling congregation shooting out from a large, strong root. Remembering launch team days where we spoke of loving God and loving people. A simple but solid foundation. Elevate, love, and adore the Lord. Love what He loves: people. Sacrifice for them, encourage them. Today, the tasks are many. The launch team has morphed into a full-fledged congregation. The rubber meets the road. Ideas of loving God and loving people are put to the test. The fledgling congregation is beautiful and fragile all at once.

This is our church. Fears, dreams, hopes, hurts. Brokenness. Humility. Wrestling with the ugliness we sometimes find in our hearts. At the same time, sweet laughter in each other’s presence. Victory and delight. Healing and understanding where there was once miscommunication. Hearts knit together as we pray. Delving into the Word as we search for truth together, spurring one another on toward love and good deeds.

This is our church. A group of people all bound together by grace. Sweet, amazing grace. It’s not our season or our socioeconomic status or our background or our ethnicity or our religious pedigrees or our personalities or our gifts or our political affiliations. It’s just grace. When that’s all we’ve got, we can revel in it together. No pretense. God is exalted and our hearts are at rest. This is our church.

I finally ventured into my garden last weekend. It was my first time back over since several days of rain followed by a few days out of town. Yikes!

One look and I affectionately name it “the jungle.” (I decided that joking about it would help me not to feel quite so overwhelmed by the mess that it had so quickly become.) My neat rows of sweet little seedlings were totally crowded by the weeds that had carpeted every nook and cranny of available soil.

As I set about pulling the weeds and tending to my vegetables, I was reminded that my garden is not so different from heart, really. Here are the lessons that struck me:

In my garden, I made decisions and deliberately planted seeds that would nourish our family. Four rows of corn, three rows of beans, tomatoes and peppers for Rick’s favorite salsa, eggplants, squash and zucchini for grilling sides this summer, and cucumbers and spinach for salads. Oh, and, a row of sunflowers just because they’re beautiful. There was design and purpose, not just a willy-nilly throwing of seeds or a random leaving it to chance.

In my heart, God’s Spirit has sown the seeds of a gentle and quiet spirit. He has intentionally planted love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. He has been purposeful in His design – not only giving me His spirit to produce noble character, but endowing me with passions and gifts that reflect His heart. 

In my garden, I must be vigilant to create an environment for my seeds to flourish. Carefully tilled soil. Water. Rows planted in the sun, not under the shade of a tree. Companion plants to keep pesky bugs from chewing my veggies.

In my heart, I need to cultivate an atmosphere where godly character can grow. Are contentment and thankfulness finding room to grow? Am I nourishing my gentle spirit with Living Water and the food of the Word? Who are my companions? Do I surround my fledgling spirit with people who encourage growth or stunt my efforts? Am I rooted in the Glorious Light or am I hiding with my doubts, fears, and selfish attitudes?

In my garden, weeds crowd in quickly. So quickly! Before I knew it, they were as tall as my seedlings. And weeds do not share the soil well. If left unchecked, they take over. If I had not set about pulling them, they would have choked out my veggies, stealing their water and sunlight. As we tugged them out, we were amazed by the deep roots. At best, any veggies that might have survived would have been puny and unappetizing.

In my heart, the weeds crowd in quickly. So quickly! Bitterness, rebelliousness, envy, vanity, gossip, complaining, selfishness. Like the weeds in my garden, they find their root and take over. Unfortunately, I’m not always vigilant to cooperate with God’s Spirit and pull them. Sometimes they even find room to flourish. Or I’ll pull them for awhile but the newness of it all wears off and I become lazy. Before I know it, my heart’s garden has become a jungle.

Ahh, lessons from the garden. Who knew that tending my garden would also challenge my heart? As I spend time there, I find myself in quiet meditation. The simple becomes sacred. And, in the process I ask, “Shan, how does your garden grow?”

One final thought…I’ve also discovered that it’s much more fun when someone joins me in the garden. Maddie came with me last time and it was just so much easier to plug away at it with her there. We talked, encouraged each other, and worked alongside each other. Her presence gave me hope that the jungle actually could be tamed.

So, I ask you, my friend: Will you join me in tending to our hearts? Can we covenant together to go after cultivating a place where a beautiful spirit can flourish? How about it? Let me ask you, “Dear one, how does your garden grow?”