Call it being a problem-solver. A critical thinker. A realist.

These are good qualities. Aren’t they? I hope so. Because we’re a family chock-full of them! *wink*

All four of us tend in this direction. We’re always looking for ways to improve a thing. Often evaluating. Critiquing ideas. Thinking and talking about the world around us. I enjoy these things about us. It helps us to live well – with vision and leadership for our numbered days.

But, it has its dark side. Sometimes the weight of it can be crushing. And, all too often, it can lead to an ungrateful heart. . .

A disposition that always notices the things undone instead of being happy about the ones that are finished. Always viewing my to-do list with dread because I can never get it all done and the things crossed off never seem to catch up with the boxes yet unchecked. There is little joy in the process or in the very work itself.

A tendency to miss the current moment because I’m focused on the thing I forgot to bring or the fact that we’re running late. Scurrying from thing to thing, a little out of breath and distracted.

A bent toward improving behavior instead of delighting in a heart that is wrestling. Pushing for more instead of just rejoicing in the small victories.

These are the dark sides of being a critical thinker. I don’t think that means we should stop “excelling still more.” I don’t think we should pretend that life doesn’t disappoint or that some behaviors are OK when they’re not or that the things on my to-do list don’t matter when they do.

But, I do think I can adjust my focus. I can train my eyes to look for the good stuff. I can guide my vision to find the precious in the midst of the mundane. I can reorient my disposition toward gratitude – always.   

A heart that declares: this is enough. This moment. This day. These people. It’s enough. My friend Ann at A Holy Experience calls it being a Joy Finder.

And, BTW, what I’m really saying is that God is enough. He’s the Giver of these moments, these blessings, these people. His gifts are more than adequate. Will I believe that? Will I embrace it moment by moment, day by day? I want to. Will you join me?

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Praying for continued heart change and training my vision on the good stuff:

• Fall temps and the wind blowing through the trees again
• Scones and hot tea on the patio on Saturday morning
• My chocolate brown fleece pullover – cozy during Caleb’s football game
• New legos and the boy room all strewn with creations
• Sounds of cousin laughter
• Dark chocolate-covered pomegranate seeds from T Joes and sampling them in the car on our way home
• Friday breakfast dates with the man who still makes my stomach flip-flop
• Laughing until we can barely breathe
• Clearing the desk piles… for now anyway
• The bread & the wine and Sunday’s sacred reminder

I’m intrigued by his quiet service. “Who is that guy anyway?”

He’s behind the project house stomping on pop cans for the recycling bin. No one knows he’s back there doing this thankless job. It’s only 1990 and recycling hasn’t even become very vogue yet. He’s alone in the alley and I watch him from my window. He in his Nike Vulturo hiking boots, cargo shorts and Denison tee. “Denison? Where’s Denison?”  I linger there a few minutes more and then on with my evening chores.

It was the summer between my sophomore and junior years of college.  I was far from home, living in a huge house with 90 other students from around the country – my friend Cheryle was the only other person I even knew. We were on an adventure with Campus Crusade for Christ. Little did I know all the ways that summer would shape my life…

Not the least of which was that Denison guy that I’d spied in the alley.

I hadn’t been looking for love. In fact, I’d started the summer dating someone else from my own college. He was a great guy but conversations with roommates, some soul-searching, and a “Dear John” letter led to the close of that relationship.

It wasn’t more than a few days after I’d sent said letter that I had been paired up with the Denison guy to go do spiritual interest surveys on the boardwalk in Atlantic City.

By this time I knew his name was Rick. We’d met in the lobby a few weeks earlier when his first words to me were “cop a squat” as he pulled up a bench for Cheryle and me. I in my navy blue, Delta Gamma pull-over, hoping that my Greek letters would hide all the apprehension and insecurity I’d been feeling at meeting 90 new people. “Cop a squat? What the heck does that mean? Sort of a weird thing to say.”

That survey pairing was just random; but, looking back, we’re pretty sure God had His fingerprints all over that one. For we talked in between surveys and something began to stir within both of us. Interest was piqued. Interest became pursuit. That pursuit was received and blossomed into romance. In time the romance became something deeper and love was born between us.

But it was more than a summer of young love. It was a summer of deep spiritual challenge as our director, Jim Sylvester, encouraged us to live in the shadow of God’s amazing grace. Not only for our own lives but he implored us to also take that grace to a parched and dying world.

Our fledgling relationship took root in that soil – right from the beginning we talked of living for something more than the proverbial picket fence. Of a life that revolved around Someone worthy of everything we had to give.

That was nearly 20 years ago.

Yesterday we celebrated 18 years of marriage. Eighteen years of covenant life together – no matter what has or will come. Eighteen years of letting Jesus chip away the junk in our lives bit by bit as we laugh and cry and agonize and rejoice through life together.

Coincidentally, we celebrated it with our Community Group serving a meal to homeless people in downtown Akron. No silver or candlelight or wine. Just plasticware with big pots of chicken soup, donated cornbread and jugs of red punch.

I’m not sure I’d have it any other way. In fact, as I looked across the cafeteria last night at my man talking with a young man who has spent the last seven of his 25 years in and out of prison, I was sure of it.

I think it’s exactly the best way we could have spent our anniversary.

Isn’t that what we said 20 years ago when two college students sat on the rock jetty, stared out into hugeness of God’s Atlantic Ocean and dreamed of living for something more than the picket fence?

Happy Anniversary, Denison guy…

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I’m adding to my gratitude list today. So thankful for 18 years with the man who still gives me butterflies… and for the life we have together.

I’m a tad behind in my photo albums. Five years to be exact. I hate telling you that. Especially if you’re one of those caught-up people like my friend Jen.

BUT, being behind has its blessings. It gives this mamma’s heart time to pause and look back. To revel in days gone by. To savor in today before it becomes a photo in an album five years from now.

I got some time away to scrapbook this weekend. And, an amazing thing happened. When I finally stopped berating myself for being so far behind, I was able to just enjoy all those memories. The photos of Maddie when her hair was still really blonde and her cheeks were chubby. The antics of my Caleb as a preschooler-becoming-Kindergartner. I was reminded that I have much for which to be thankful: 

• A husband who gets down on the floor and plays with his kids. He’s in so many of the photos with them; not distant behind a newspaper but on their level and right in the thick of it. Giving hugs when the training wheels came off, congratulating a hard-earned soccer goal, holding tired kiddos, praying with them, tickling them. Loving them.
• Two kids who are full of personality and life and orneriness – even the photos capture it.
• God’s design in creating them each so differently. They live in the same house, have the same upbringing and the same last name, but they are two distinct people with dreams and gifts and desires that shaped their activities even in those earlier years.
• Several years that my extended family lived close and we were able to live life together. Mamo & Pa didn’t always live in Mississippi. For the early years they lived right here in Northeast Ohio; we could stop by unexpectedly and they were able to be at all the cousin birthdays. The kids roamed their yard and loved on their dogs and played legos in their guest room. I’m remembering big bonfires and watermelon juice dripping down all the dirt-caked cousin cheeks after a day of helping Mamo mulch. Life changes and moves happen but I’m thankful that we had those years.
• A sister’s new life. As I work through my albums, I’m seeing her in more and more family photos as Jesus grabbed hold of her heart and she starting coming around more often. Now, she’s one of my dearest friends.
• Lots of work to our fixer-upper house. Old photos reveal the tired walls and the worn-out carpet and the effort of transforming it into the place we call home today.  
• McKee cousin memories and the way those big boys dote on our little Madison – the only girl on that side of the family.
• Always enough provision to make birthdays and holidays special times together. Our photos are full of simple traditions that have shaped our family.
• The four of us together. A lot.
• Pages of Christmas card photos from friends who live all over the country. Our years with Campus Crusade allowed us to cross paths with so many precious people.

The time away was refreshing and the pause was good for my soul. I’d like to be caught-up on my photo albums. But, sometimes being behind has its own advantages. It was a good thing to look back and celebrate. To thank God now for the things I might have taken for granted back then.

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Thanks for joining me and others for Monday gratitude!

It was one of those weekends.

The garbage disposal sprung a leak. I forgot to take the library books back on time. Rick and I were arguing. I was getting stressed by a to-do list that seemed overwhelming. The sewer line was starting to smell a little funky. The car repair place had called: yep, the brakes on the car were shot. Mixing the vinegar and the baking soda for the rocket inside the house had turned out to be a bad idea…  

Clearly, it was not one of my best weekends.

So, as I come into this week, I come empty.

Turning my heart to gratitude because I must.

Because God is still on His throne and He is still lavishing me with good things.

Thanks to you God…

• For “I really do love you” whispered between husband and wife in the still night air – even after a day of dissonance
• For time with old, dear friends – talking so long that we lost track of time
• For a husband who can fix the leaky sink
• For moments of grace sprinkled throughout hard days
• For warm, homemade Toll House cookies – and the evidence left on Caleb’s face *smile*
• For warm spring days and walking the kids to school
• For purple crocs on 8-year-old feet
• For Caleb’s big blue eyes and his earnest “I love you, Mom” when he knows I’m sad
• For a living hope that extends beyond material things
• For windows open and fresh air wafting in
• For fresh cut grass – so green from the spring rains
• For a jewelry-making lesson from sweet friends who reflect God as they create
• For my pens and the simiple pleasure of writing in my journal with different colors
• For the mood of anticipation as I prepare for my scrapbooking retreat this weekend
• For this quiet moment and the time to regroup

And, last but certainly not least, for the writer of Hebrews who reminds me…

“Through [Jesus] then, let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that give thanks to His name.”

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Join me as I connect with other bloggers in gratitude today…

The signs are evident. The rest of the story is being revealed. There IS life under all that snow.

Here in Northeast Ohio, we’re emerging from one of the snowiest Februaries in recent history. (Do you know we only had one day of sunshine during the entire month?) While my snowy walks were utterly breathtaking, I’m ready for Spring. We all are – as is evidenced by the student I saw in a tank top last week. A tad premature for tank tops, I think; but I’ll take the Spring temps just the same. (I didn’t have the heart to tell said student that it will probably snow at least one more time before the weather fully changes! She’ll find out soon enough, I suppose.)

On this first day of the week I need my gratitude list – truth be told, springing forward with EST has me a little grouchy. (Why does that one hour make such a difference?)

Thanksgiving is just the place to start. Continuing the list:

• Signs of new life emerging in nature;
• Clear sidewalks so that we can walk to school again;
• The pile of muddy clothes from boys playing in newly thawed backyards;
• Fridays with Rick at home;
• Plans in the making for the Crossroads Mexico trip;
• Madison’s thrill at getting her scooter back out – up and down the block she goes;
• The fun of having a toddler in the house this weekend and watching my kids nurture someone else’s sweet girl;
• Stirrings in my heart as I contemplate Easter in fresh ways;
• Starbucks with a dear friend and shared anticipation as her wedding draws near; and
• Three new babies at church with eight more on the way – how we welcome these little ones into our midst!

Ahhh. The thanksgiving is so good for my heart – chasing the grouchiness away and reminding me of a life that overflows with plenty.

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Each Monday, I join with others who start the week with gratitude at:

A new month begins.

We’re in the hard stretch of winter here in Ohio. The sky is gray. The snow has gotten dirty from plows and road grime. The novelty of snow angels and crazy sled rides has worn off a bit. Caleb sighs as I remind him once again that he needs his hat and gloves before he leaves for school. Even the magic of whipped cream on a frothy mug of hot cocoa doesn’t seem to fill them like it did in January. 

I can feel it in the air. This pervasive sense of longing. For blue skies and bird songs. For greens to peak out and color to return. For lawnmowers instead of snow blowers. For flip flops instead of boots.

And, it’s not just the kids. The grown-ups long for it too. I can see the question in their eyes: when will the Spring come? March always feels like such a long month as we wrestle with the reality that Spring is still several weeks away.

In this season of hopeful longing, I must continue the list. Bringing color to my gray days with splashes of gratitude. Looking for beauty and filling up on the good stuff.

• Extra time to create and indulge on scones and fresh whipped cream when we had the snow day on Friday;
• Family game night and discovering a new, fun game together (yey for Little Red Wagon and its wonderful, creative game selection!);
• The whistle of my tea kettle;
• The feeling I get when I pull up to the great brick house on Longmere and find my Grammy home for a chat;
• Watching my own kids explore said brick house where I once played – creaky steps to the attic, pokey rug on the landing, Werthers in the bowl;
• Time away with a newish friend at our church overnight – our friendship is becoming a sweet, comfortable place for my heart;
• The firm conviction that God does “raise the dead” as I pray for dear ones in broken marriages and hurting friendships;
• KidSingers “standing like an elephant” in worship yesterday;
• A surprise book in the mail (a just-because delivery that was a BOOK about TEA from my MOM… how good can it get?!?!);
• The hum of the furnace kicking on just before the alarm goes off in the morning.

The list of thanksgiving holds the bleakness at arms length and allows me to keep looking for beauty – even in March. Thanks for joining with me and others in the Gratitude Community this first Monday of the month.

THOU GREAT AND ONLY POTENTATE,

Thou hast made summer and winter, day and night;

each of these revolutions serves our welfare

and is full of thy care and kindness.

Thy bounty is seen

in the relations that train us,

the laws that defend us,

the homes that shelter us,

the food that builds us,

the raiment that comforts us,

the continuance of our health, members, senses,

understanding, memory, affection, will.

But as the stars fade before the rising sun,

Thou hast eclipsed all these benefits

in the wisdom and grace that purposed

redemption by Jesus thy Son.

Gifts and gratitude recorded ages ago on the pages of a Puritan journal. Words left behind that resonate in my heart today.

Will I join him in a chorus that echoes across time and place and circumstance? A chorus that rises up as a pleasing aroma to the Giver of all good things? May my list of the bounty take its place in the neverending song of thanks…

• Crazy But True popcorn and the sweet friends who are venturing out with a new business idea (who knew that curry could make such a yummy popcorn flavor?);
• Down comforters and being cozy under the covers;
• Anticipation of new life and a precious church body surrounding a young girl-becoming-woman as her belly swells and she prepares for the days ahead;
• Laughter and vulnerability and love amidst the brokenness as we share life stories in our Community Group;
• Eight-year-old girl chatter as I pass Madison’s room and hear two friends playing with their American Girl dolls (will the day really come when they will be too “cool” for dolls?);
• My morning cup of English Breakfast tea while the house is still dark and quiet;
• Glimpsing Caleb alone on the couch singing praise songs to his Lord (he thought no one was looking but this Mamma saw it and was deeply moved);
• Crunch of snow under my feet as I walk in the woods;
• Trying a new recipe and discovering Taco Soup as a new family favorite;
• Books that never grow old.

______________________________________________________________________________Today I’m starting the week with the ongoing “gifts list” by joining other bloggers in the great chorus of thanksgiving:

Mondays come fast – sometimes taking me by surprise. And the gift list has been neglected.

The simple, purposeful recording of life’s goodnesses.

I know I can be thankful without the list. There’s nothing magical about a list. It’s not the list that makes me grateful. It’s a heart tuned to the bounty all around, eyes searching to see, and hands open to receive.

And, yet, the list helps me to pause. To remember.

I forget so quickly. I move to the next thing on the horizon and sometimes fail to embrace the beauty of the thing right in front of me.  

And, so today I am back to the list. My record of the goodnesses. A testimony to God’s grace and a place for me to remember.

•  Valentine reminders of love – kid style.

• Sleeping next to my beloved and the sound of his breathing as he drifts off.
• Anonymous card sweetly delivered to remind us that we’re loved.
• Brotherly concern over little sister’s fevered brow.
• Minestrone and bread to chase away the winter chills.
• Snowy piles of boots, gloves, scarves and the like. Evidence of fun times and backyard snow forts.

• Sunday afternoon naps.
• Reading 39 Clues with the kids each night. Our read-aloud time is one of my favorite parts of the day.
• Our school and the little squeals of “Hi Mrs. McKee” as I drop off the kids. How I bask in all those hugs and greetings!
• Sunrise came a few minutes earlier this morning. The days are getting longer again!

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Joining with other bloggers to remember the bounty…

The last few weeks have seen their fair share of lists. Grocery lists, to-do lists, gift lists, Christmas card lists… lots and lots of lists. It feels good to set aside a few of those lists for this ongoing list. A moment to savor some of God’s goodnesses…

• finding nerf darts in every nook and cranny of my house
• change of plans and a visit from mom & dad
• Christmas cards that remind me of all the precious people that are part of our McKee world
• laughter over Apples to Apples
• hot cocoa with whipped cream and crushed candy canes on top
• being known… and, yet, loved
• Crossroads first Christmas Eve together
• new david nevue cds under the tree for me
• quiet beauty as the snow falls and lays in the crook of the Maple tree
• my sister’s washing machine nearby when ours is on the fritz
• chili in the crockpot, family gathering around
• the playmobile nativity and another year of watching for Jesus
• “you’ve been gifted” stories still rolling in
• snuggles and pj days during Christmas break
• pastor-husband sobered as he serves communion to precious people
• a Faith that marries simplicity, profundity, and majesty into one true and beautiful story for the ages
• my arm through the Rick’s as we worship together
• Grammy’s delight over her paperwhites
• my Christmas teapot – and the one who gave it so many Christmases ago
• sweet words of encouragement after my tears on the 24th…

Maybe 2010 will be your year to join me and others in a gratitude list. Ann Voskamp’s Gratitude Community has been my inspiration. Please let me know if you start your own list… whether you blog it or journal it. I’d love to rejoice with you.

“The Pilgrims made seven times more graves than huts. No Americans have been more impoverished than these who, nevertheless, set aside a day of thanksgiving.” – H. U. Westermayer

I’ve started calling it the “Lost Holiday”. You know the one – it’s sandwiched in between Halloween and Christmas. It’s the one without much fanfare. There are no costumes or school parties. No candy to be hoped for and consumed. No presents under a tree, stockings stuffed to overflowing, or Toys R Us catalogs to peruse. In our consumer culture, Thanksgiving stands in the shadows of these other celebrations.

I’ve noticed that the eclipse has become more and more complete each year. American retailers set the pace for the rest of the country and, let’s face it, giving thanks is not really a big money-maker for them.

In most stores this year, the minute the orange and black trinkets were clearanced, the red and green decorations came out. I’ve heard Christmas music in at least one store and seen my fair share of Christmas advertising already.

And, we willingly follow their lead. One only need look down the street at yard after yard already decorated for Christmas.

Mind you, I’m not saying it’s wrong to be excited about Christmas. And, shame on me if I were to embrace a legalism about when we’re allowed to hang the Christmas lights and when we’re not. No, that’s not my aim.

My hope is simply to encourage a pause. Foremost, in my own heart, perhaps in yours as well. Could we just not eclipse the one day that we’ve set aside to give thanks? Will you join me as I quiet my heart this week and purpose to cultivate an attitude of gratitude? To slow down and reflect on the past year (or the past month or the past week) with a thankful heart. A grateful heart for all of it: the good, the bad, and the ugly in our lives.  

Maybe you’ll start a new family tradition that points you toward gratitude. Maybe you’ll spend a few more minutes praying to the One who gives so lavishly. Maybe you’ll stress a little less over the perfect centerpiece and just enjoy the simple. Maybe you’ll just look across the table and choose to see something precious in your spouse or your kids – a reminder of why you’re grateful for them in your life. Whatever it is, won’t you join me in recovering the Lost Holiday?

Maybe it will jump start a new thing in your life that moves out of one Thursday each year and into the very fabric of your life.

For now, I continue my gift list. I’m joining with others in an online Gratitude Community to reflect on the good gifts. Here is a smattering from this week:

• little second-grade friends for Madison to share life with
• piano music that calms my heart and ministers to my soul
• our Community Group and life stories that point to God’s glory
• one of the most beautiful Novembers of the last few years
• Fall hikes with the kids
• blogs and sites that allow me to benefit from the creativity of others
• reading that connects deeply and brings out the best in me
• colorful pens and papers
• finished projects
• father and son watching the Buckeyes together on Saturday