i think i finally have a kindred spirit. but i don't know her. that's the only problem. She is an author. I have been reading her book lately--- One Thousand Gifts--- and i would venture out to say that it's changed (or is changing) my life. you are probably thinking, "oh yeah, don't worry, this is one of those book kicks that will wear off in a few months... the newest trend, like wanting to become a vampire because of reading the Twilight books or something. Or even a much holier aspiration... wanting to name your son "Aiden Wilson" because A.W. Tozer's book has changed your life so much." No, but really, I think I am actually beginning to change. And with C.S. Lewis (no, i would never name my son "Clive Staples" even though he's changed my life), I too, take comfort and refuge in the fact that, "we read to know we are not alone." And alone I am not. This author gets it.

And that is why she is my kindred spirit. Finally I have someone who's worries, anxieties, past pains, and debilitating trust issues are compatible with mine. But the beautiful part is that... she has a solution. No, she's not God. And no, her solution is not in finding Mr. Right. When you have severe trust issues, you either figure you are going to need to be single all your life (or at least live that way), become a professional worrier so as to keep yourself protected, OR just duck and deny that anything bad could ever happen on this fallen earth, so as never to be hurt. None of those options sound appealing to me. I really don't feel like medicine could fix this trust problem (though I'm sure it could treat the symptoms for me!) and my heart has been longing for a place to call home... for a long time. A place to know that even in the midst of pain, you can trust from your gut, that He is good. But I have been far too afraid to let Christ really be the resident and act like it because of the fear that He is only good if He keeps me from pain. I wish that were the case. I wish I could be teleported back to the garden and just skip this Earth thing that will end in a tribulation and a great battle. But I can't. My long lost mother and father fell into sin, and the truth is, I would have too if I had been the one hanging around that tree of good and evil. But I am on my own journey of redemption and reconciliation and though covered by the Lamb's clothing, I have been thrown out where signs of painful childbirth and toil are all that remain.

This newfound author-friend says that eucharisteo (fancy for thankfulness) is the way back to trust, the way back to God. I am skeptical. But I am on #23 of writing down my thankfuls to 1000, and i'll be honest, my heart gets a little bit bigger each time I write down something i'm thankful for. monarch butterfly flying freely. Does this thankful, eucharisteo woman really have the answer? Is it really possible that the more I name the little things that are sure, the more I will realize that He has taken care of me, ,\ for at least another day. Is this truly the way out of letting your pain and memories swallow you? Is this really the way to accept dying grandparents and thus the death of being a child in the arms of whismy and innocence? Is this really the way to move forward into love and out of the fear of betrayal and rejection? is this really the way to find the beauty in ugly and the purpose in pain? the glory in a man at wal-mart with half an eye and the life he must face in the midst of his pain? to find perspective when a mcdonald's employee gets moved from the front-desk counter to cooking fries and says, " but I so enjoyed it up here! getting to interact with people, you know what I mean?" i fear my perspective is off and I fear the only way out is by eucharisteo. My mom has always said that gratitude is what separates people who enjoy life with those who don't. I've always tried to ignore that, hoping that somehow I'd be found in the small percentage of those who just need a major "circumstance" change. And yet, I am beginning to see, that maybe she is right. Maybe she didn't know the work eucharisteo. Maybe each time I breathe my thankfuls to God, He stretches my heart just a little bigger and makes room for Himself? Maybe i can't make a home for him in my heart until it is stretched big enough for him to feel at home? And just maybe, all my spoken fears, worries, concerns, negativities have crowded out the moments which actually make room for him by speaking out my trust in the small ways he does come through everyday. One of the greats of history said that God tells the sun every morning with gusto, "Do it again!" May my lips marvel over the things that he does again and again day in and day out that speak of His surety. Eucharisteo.