Forever Thankful

One of my favorite things about living in VA this year is getting to experience seasons again. After we left VA, nine years ago, we moved to southern Oklahoma, where you didn't have weather, you just had wind. Then we moved to the coast of California, where the weather was always perfect and never really changed--beautiful, but sometimes boring. From there we moved to southern Texas, where we pretended we were having seasons but knew we were lying to ourselves, and then to balmy Florida, where people routinely come to get away from the seasonal change and the only exciting seasonal change is a hurricane. So getting a year to really experience all the seasonal shifts, from sweltering summer to fiery fall to white winter (hopefully), has been more wonderful than I could've expected.

I say that and fully realize that I didn't grow up with seasons and shouldn't be as enamored of them as I am and will most likely be whining, come February, about how cold I am and how long it takes for spring to arrive. In the meantime, though, I am snapping picture after picture, and saying thank you.

I am especially thankful that we are here with these glowing leaves and chilly days because it appears we are heading to the desert after this, the Mojave Desert, to be exact. I don't think I'm going to be getting fall leaves while we are there. And I am purposefully committing to enjoy every minute of seasonal change while we are here.

With that said, I'm also committing to being thankful where we are going. It's a new adventure for our family--we've never lived in a desert before (though I was born in one, not so long ago). I hope to find myself saying thank you for the cactus and the vivid sunsets and the unique wildlife I would never have experienced anywhere else, just as much as I have said thank you for the morning glories on our back porch and the hill side of flaming trees and the trio of bats who like to swoop over our back porch every night. Just as I said thank you in Florida for the deserted base beach and the occasional thrill of seeing dolphins and the excitement of imagining I might get eaten by a bear while running....and thank you in Texas for the pecan trees and the turtle pond and the breakfast tacos just down the road (oh, the breakfast tacos...still saying thank you for those).

Still, even as I set my mind to say thank you at the next base, I wonder: is it easier for me to say do so in all circumstances because I know those circumstances are short term? You can deal with just about anything when it has an end date. Or am I merely remembering what many of us forget in our more sedentary lives: that nothing is forever?

Because even if you aren't the type to move every two years, you have children who will grow, friends who will drift in and out of your lives, jobs that will change, phases of life that come and go. The truth is that all seasons come to an end eventually, but choosing thankfulness prepares my heart for eternity.

Thankfulness reminds me that there is more to my life than what I see. The leaves change color and drift from the trees, but the One who made them is forever. When I train myself to say thank you, I'm remembering that life is not about my small concerns, but that He still cares for me and He still provides for them. When I train myself to say thank you, I'm recognizing that every good gift comes from above and that there are so very many good gifts. When I train myself to say thank you, I'm choosing not to let the struggles define my life (even when they are very real and very challenging) but rather the celebrations. One day in heaven, I'll get to celebrate the best gift of all--Christ's life given for me--and, after having practiced saying thank you for so many years, for once I will find that it is as natural as breathing because all the tears will have dried and all the brokenness been healed and there will be nothing left but the good for which I have long been grateful.

But until that day, I make the choice to look around with eyes wide open and to take a picture with my mind (and often with my phone too), a picture which will be just a tiny sliver of the glory that waits in forever. And I say thank you.