As I explained in Gratitude from the Ashes, if the act of giving thanks is more challenging this year than it has been in the past, I understand. Perhaps, like Solomon, you are wrestling with the realities of death or sin and injustice. Perhaps it has just been a difficult year in many small respects; the pounding surf of the mundane can be deafening after a while.
How can we give true thanks to God when our souls are tired and weary?
Today I'm going to give you a peek into my box of little treasures. When I graduated from high school, we were given a free cedar memory box from a local furniture store, and we could have a small plate engraved for the top. I had a few things I had collected at that point that were treasures to me - physical tokens and reminders of God's goodness and faithfulness in my life, or of major lessons He had taught me along the way.
I had the personalized plate on my box inscribed with "she treasured these things and pondered them in her heart." Indeed, these are small things, but they are treasures. When I open this box that is bursting with cards, letters, pictures, funeral programs, hospital bracelets, and even a rock... I am overwhelmed by the goodness of my God- I am reminded that He has been my shepherd all my life to this day.
No matter how difficult my present circumstances are, these things serve as a physical reminder that God is with me, that He is active in my life, that one day He will make something beautiful out of the fiery trials that seem overwhelming... and someday I will have something else to add to my box of treasures.
Today I want to tell you a story about one of the more "random" items in my box. Someone who didn't know the story might think it is an overlooked piece of trash that made its way into the stack of memorabilia, but to me it is priceless.
The summer after my sophomore year of college, God very clearly placed me as a counselor in a small Baptist summer camp. [Providentially, that is where my husband and I met.] :) It was a fabulous summer - I truly loved it. Working there was probably one of the only times in my life when I have relished getting up in the morning. I loved stepping out of my cabin while all my campers were sleeping, feeling the slight chill in the air, smelling the fresh outdoorsy aromas that seem to rise up with the sun. I would get ready for the day, grab a cup of awful coffee that was made palatable with hot chocolate and flavored creamer [I had laid claim to an old mug that said "Worlds' Best Dad" on it and used it every day], and start my day with the Lord watching His creation sing around me. I often am nostalgic for camp mornings - they were sweet indeed.
One morning I woke up late, and realized that my alarm had died. It was still plugged in, we had power, but my alarm clock was shot. My sweet morning time was gone as my campers were waking up with me and we were all going to be late for breakfast. It was a frustrating start to the day, and I was discouraged because I didn't know when I'd be able to get to town to replace my alarm clock. While counseling at this camp we were with our campers 24 hours a day from the time they arrived on Monday morning until they departed on Saturday morning, and since it was mid-week, I would be without a clock for several days. Not a tragedy, but frustrating and a serious dent in my morning routine.
Later that day, I made my way to the staff lounge while my campers headed back to the cabin for their rest time. I dutifully checked the counter for mail, not expecting anything, when I noticed a box addressed to me. Weirder yet, it was from my grandmother. My maternal grandparents have been Jehovah's Witnesses since long before I was born, which means we never got Christmas or birthday presents or cards. I have seen my grandmother's handwriting on mail only a few times in my life, and I certainly was not expecting a box to arrive at my Baptist camp for me!
I opened it up, and in that box I found an alarm clock, complete with batteries, and a short note explaining that she saw it at the store and thought I might like it.
This happened over 9 years ago, and I'm still teary as I type this.
That clock would have seemed like a weird gift to receive any other day of my life. But that day, I needed an alarm clock. God knew. He had worked to cause my grandmother to purchase that clock, remember batteries, pack it up, and send it on just the right day so that it would arrive at the exact time I needed it.
I love the story of when God provides for Hagar and Ishmael in the wildnerness - when she feels completely alone, that everyone who knows her has forgotten or abandoned her, when she thinks she will have to be a witness to her son dying of thirst, God provides for her exact need. She responds by naming Him El Roi- "the God who sees me."
Sometimes when life is difficult, it is easy to start to question if God sees our needs, sees our pain, and if He cares. This tiny treasure from my box, a plastic sticker that covered the face of my alarm clock God used my lost grandmother to send me, is a physical reminder that God does care. He does know. He sees me when no one else does.
I can praise God and give Him true gratitude today - for He is my El Roi. He is the one who sees me.
My box of treasures definitely "works for me." What are you remembering and praising God for today?Image from FreeFoto.com
