Good Things

Let all that I am praise the Lord;
With my whole heart I will praise his holy name.
Let all that I am praise the Lord;
May I never forget the good things he does for me.
He forgives all my sins.
He heals all my diseases.
He redeems me from death and crowns me with love and tender mercies.
He fills my life with good things.
My youth is renewed like the eagles!
Psalm 103:1-5 (NLT)

May I never forget the good things.

It is easy to forget in the hard, when everything feels overwhelming and bad.

There are so many good things.

Forgiveness. Not just forgiveness but restoration of hope and of relationships.

He has restored my soul.

Healing. Not from a physical wound or disease but from a deep heart wound. It is a continual process of relapse and repair.

The Great Physician continues to meet me in my places of pain.

Redemption. Pulled back from the brink of certain soul death, God has called me to life in the present, not just the hope of the everlasting.

I have been invited to live fully.

Love. My life is crowned with so much love that, at times, my head aches with the weight of it all. Yet the lover of my soul continues to press and pursue me with the magnitude and depth of his care.

He offers me tender mercies each day.

Good things.

I listen to piano music being played, and my soul soars. The music happens just because there is a piano and just because it can be played. There is no agenda other than beauty.

I fill my belly with warm food prepared together with my husband. A son has requested breakfast burritos, so we lazily chop and brown and saute and sip coffee as we mull over the state of current events, and, more importantly, the current state of our hearts.

I steal off to my room and place of space when time around the table becomes too much to handle. My husband graciously resolves an episode of conflict surrounding episode pick as I read from Psalm 103 and ponder good things.

I accept that my dining room table has transformed to a ping-pong table and the chandelier has been raised to accommodate two brothers competing and instructing the youngest on ping-pong technique, while singing family folk songs. I hear this through my closed bedroom door, images filling my mind. Little sisters clamor to join and are welcomed with patient grace.

There is no Macy’s Day Parade on my TV, but there is a parade of music, words, memories, and people flooding my mind and filling my Facebook feed and texting my phone. There is the hope that one day Thanksgiving may look like what I long for and what has been in the past with parade watching and couch-cuddling and coffee drinking and sweet potato baking.

When it looks like that, it will no longer look like this.

And this is a good thing. I am thankful.

Thanks for heart-composting with me! I appreciate your words.