So I can't say I was the most committed Blogtober-er this month, every day was just too much for my to-do list. My goal this month was to blog about Thankfulness, turning the everyday happenings into Grace for Him.
It's been a beautiful month: celebration of Thanksgiving, a season of Nature's beauty, time of reflecting, laughter, turning frustration into patience, spending more time with my children, greeting my hubby more cheerfully when he came in the door, letting go and forgiving, failing, trying again. I've learned that it takes a lot of effort to turn my days into Thankfulness, it doesn't come naturally. There are days where I went to bed feeling as though I failed miserably that day as a wife, mother and child of God. I believe though that for myself, this blog has become a reminder for me to try anew each day, my accountability partner in seeking Grace. The words I type become a prayer, a form communicating more clearly to Him. There are so many times I can hardly form a prayer on my lips but my heart can pour out as I type or write.
This month, marking seven years since Dad passed, brought about different feelings in me. The years past have held such an ache inside when thoughts of Dad arose, but honestly that ache hasn't hurt this month. Maybe it's because I've been practicing thankfulness, turning the sad feelings into thanks for the time I had. I went back to Ecclesiastes 3, the chapter that has spoke to me for many years. It's the backbone of my blog and that verse I'm left with this month, and joyfully so is 'A time to mourn, a time to dance.' There is a time for everything, and doesn't it fill you with hope and thanks that after a time of mourning, the dance comes back again. I couldn't be more thankful to think of my Dad now and laugh with joy at the times we danced around the kitchen to the Saturday Night Polka Party or did the George Wescott Christmas Jig during the Holidays. I shared a dance with my Dad at my High School Prom and he was the only Sixty something Mennonite man dancing with a group of graduating Teenagers. I remember going to Austin rodeos and we could never leave until Dad watched a bit of the Two-stepping where the band was playing.
I love to dance and definitely know where it stems from. And so I'm left knowing I can't dance with him again, I'm awful glad I had chance to for eighteen years and I can pass on those memories to my children with a dance around the kitchen, and turning on the Polka Party for old times sake.
The unthankful heart... discovers no mercies; but let the thankful heart sweep through the day and, as the magnet finds the iron, so it will find, in every hour, some heavenly blessings! ~Henry Ward Beecher