Gratitude

I know there is poor and hideous suffering, and I've seen the hungry and the guns that go to war. I have lived pain, and my life can tell: I only deepen the wound of the world when I neglect to give thanks.

To give thanks for early light dappled through leaves, and the heavy perfume of the changing seasons, for the melody of rain falling on a tin roof, and for the rivers that run, and the stars that rise, and the rain that falls, and all the good things that a good God gives. Why would the world need more anger more outrage.

How does it save the world to reject unabashed joy, when it is joy that saves us? Rejecting solidarity with the suffering doesn't rescue the suffering...the converse does.

The brave who focus on all things good and all things beautiful and all things true, even in the here and now, they are the change agents who bring fullest light to all the world.

When we lay the soil of our hard lives open to the rain of grace and let joy penetrate our cracked and dry places, let joy soak into our broken skin and deep crevices, life grows.

How can this not be the best thing for the world? For us? The clouds open when we mouth gratitude.