I was floundering.

Lost in the laundry, cooking, clean-up, baths, books, and bedtimes.
Overtaken by the mundane.
Riddled with worry of the unknown.
Frustrated with the present.

I woke up one morning, heavy hearted over the coming day. Dreading the usual tasks at hand.

God ordained that as the time I would see Ann’s trailer for her new book, One Thousand Gifts. Ann reminds us, “Gratitude for the seemingly small and insignificant- this is the seed- the seed that plants the giant miracle in the midst of it all.”

I was in need of a miracle in the midst of it all.

Then, on a recommendation from a friend, I found myself in Psalms that day.

And somewhere along the way I came face to face with my ungrateful heart.

The worry, boredom and frustration were all mere symptoms of the disease of ungratefulness.

It seems odd to consider worry as a sign of ungratefulness. Yet, I realized worry and gratitude cannot coexist. I cannot thank my Savior that I have enough and in the next breath mutter that I fear for what is to come. Worry, then, must be the antithesis of gratitude. Worry was like an overgrown weed in the places where gratitude should have been blossoming.

Instead of fretting over the things I don’t have or don’t know the certain outcomes of, gratitude beckons me, reminding me that what is to come doesn’t matter. What does matter is the condition of my heart when the future arrives.

And the present, the proverbial gift, was being tossed aside all along.
Opened, but not appreciated.
Like a child with too many gifts on Christmas day.

The gift of each day beginning to feel more and more like a burden.

Realizing the condition of my heart was one thing. Changing it was another. How does one will herself out of ungratefulness?

I prayed.

I asked Him to change me.

And something happened that night while putting my children to bed. Looking at my little girl and listening to her jabbering the few words she knows, I was overcome with thankfulness for these lives He has given me to guide. I hugged her a little longer than usual, whispering in her ear how dearly loved she is.

Then I sat with my older child and listened (really listened) to him tell me all the things that go through a four year old’s mind before bed. Would I be packing Jell-O in his lunch tomorrow for preschool? Because the other kids have Jell-O cups. What was on the menu for breakfast?

I tucked wiggly little bodies in and kissed them good night.

My heart brimmed with gratitude. Nothing had really changed, yet everything was different.

Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good, for his steadfast love endures forever. – Psalm 136:1

By: Lara, The Farmer’s Wife

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