Abundance
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I believe Ann Voskamp to be a truly annointed writer. She illuminates Jesus in a way that speaks to my heart, and the hearts of so many other readers with an approach so different from any other author I've read. I'm not a big reader. I get bored easily and either fight fluttering eye lids as sleep tempts me, or get fidgety and lose complete focus of what I'm reading. I'll read pages at a time only to realize I haven't soaked up one word, but instead have daydreamed about this project or that project that I could be working on. I'd rather be doing something handsy than reading. But with Ann, I can sit for long periods of time pulling in page after page of her beautiful descriptive sentiments. It helps that I can relate with her on so many levels. It helps that, from what I can tell, many of my emotional struggles are the same as the ones that she so candidly writes about.
She writes about thanks. Giving thanks. The importance. The beauty. That naturality (not a word) of it. The design of it. It's what we were created to do. To give thanks, to bring Glory to our Creator and praise him for all things.
I don't feel like I've ever had a struggle noticing beauty around me. I remember at a very young age noticing and loving the beauty that abounds in this place God has us. Just imagine the beauty in our real "home" that he is masterfully creating! There will not be words sufficient!
Noticing beauty, loving the beauty hasn't been by lack. Acknowledging the beauty to HIM. THAT has been my lack. Praising him for it. Thanking him for it. Telling him that I see and love it. That.
But when I do. OH, when I do.... its like a well spring of life. He renews through thanksgiving. He renews hearts and spirits. He strengthens faith and blessings abound. Blessings always abound, because he says they will - even when they look so completely different than we wanted or expected or imagined they would. Through the pain and sorrow - through our human lack of understanding and our short sightedness.
blessings abound
I've had to take careful steps to reign in my attitude in this place in which God has us for this season of our lives. This island. This remote, "different" location.
It didn't take any time at all for me to notice the wind. Other than being completely aggravating when trying to do ANYTHING outside, it makes creepy sounds. One of my earliest memories is of laying in bed and disliking the sound of the wind whistling through windows and under doors - I dislike it more than many sounds that bother me. It is SO windy here! Most days. It whistles, disrupts, slams, creates disarray. I just don't like it.
The ocean
It's another one of those things that I just.don't.like. It's in our backyard here. It's there, through every window facing that direction. It's where the sun comes up every morning. It's where the gray rolls in from most days. It's where there are depths that we cannot fathom. Creatures that are not known. Power, unpredictability, sheer mass. When the waves cap off the shore the top of the curl is a stunning aqua hue. I appreciate that. I love when the tide is low and the waves are few and the sun is just right and all the little creatures that I've read about or have seen pictures of coming out from under their bright colored, fuzzy hiding places. How the crabs skitter and grab. How the fish startle and dart. How the sea cucumbers hang and suction.
The rest of the time I look away. I look away from the dark spots that keep out the suns penetrating light. I look away from the ruthless pounding on the jagged black rocks. I look away from the sound that I can turn off - the constant sound of crashing - of uncontrollable power - of danger. A night the man of the house loves to have the window open to hear the waves. It makes me uneasy to listen. The dark, the waves, the wind - the images of sharp ebony rocks and the sheer drops into the forceful, smashing water.
The gray.
It's often gray here. It swallows up the mountain on our island, as it pours down. It skims over the water and blocks the comforting sun. Perhaps that's why all the houses are painted white and bright colors. Colors that you won't see on houses in most cities in the U.S. Colors that seem over dramatic and unkind to a looker on. But on gray days - those are the houses I want to stare at. I WANT white walls, white houses, lavender, pink, turquise houses. They look incredible when surrounded by the heavy gray.
Even on the gray days. Even on the windy days. Even on the days that are gray and windy ( ick ), blessings pour over.
Even on the gray days. Yesterday. Even on the windy days. Today. Even on the days that I struggle to stop incessantly thinking about how it was rarely windy in FL. How it was rarely gray in FL. The same blessings abound here on this tiny island. Here in this foreign country. My Creator didn't only bless in Florida. He didn't only reside in Florida. He didn't only notice us in Florida. It's different here. It's so so different.
but He's here.
and so are His blessings
so is His beauty
so is His protection
She writes about thanks. Giving thanks. The importance. The beauty. That naturality (not a word) of it. The design of it. It's what we were created to do. To give thanks, to bring Glory to our Creator and praise him for all things.
I don't feel like I've ever had a struggle noticing beauty around me. I remember at a very young age noticing and loving the beauty that abounds in this place God has us. Just imagine the beauty in our real "home" that he is masterfully creating! There will not be words sufficient!
Noticing beauty, loving the beauty hasn't been by lack. Acknowledging the beauty to HIM. THAT has been my lack. Praising him for it. Thanking him for it. Telling him that I see and love it. That.
But when I do. OH, when I do.... its like a well spring of life. He renews through thanksgiving. He renews hearts and spirits. He strengthens faith and blessings abound. Blessings always abound, because he says they will - even when they look so completely different than we wanted or expected or imagined they would. Through the pain and sorrow - through our human lack of understanding and our short sightedness.
blessings abound
I've had to take careful steps to reign in my attitude in this place in which God has us for this season of our lives. This island. This remote, "different" location.
It didn't take any time at all for me to notice the wind. Other than being completely aggravating when trying to do ANYTHING outside, it makes creepy sounds. One of my earliest memories is of laying in bed and disliking the sound of the wind whistling through windows and under doors - I dislike it more than many sounds that bother me. It is SO windy here! Most days. It whistles, disrupts, slams, creates disarray. I just don't like it.
The ocean
It's another one of those things that I just.don't.like. It's in our backyard here. It's there, through every window facing that direction. It's where the sun comes up every morning. It's where the gray rolls in from most days. It's where there are depths that we cannot fathom. Creatures that are not known. Power, unpredictability, sheer mass. When the waves cap off the shore the top of the curl is a stunning aqua hue. I appreciate that. I love when the tide is low and the waves are few and the sun is just right and all the little creatures that I've read about or have seen pictures of coming out from under their bright colored, fuzzy hiding places. How the crabs skitter and grab. How the fish startle and dart. How the sea cucumbers hang and suction.
The rest of the time I look away. I look away from the dark spots that keep out the suns penetrating light. I look away from the ruthless pounding on the jagged black rocks. I look away from the sound that I can turn off - the constant sound of crashing - of uncontrollable power - of danger. A night the man of the house loves to have the window open to hear the waves. It makes me uneasy to listen. The dark, the waves, the wind - the images of sharp ebony rocks and the sheer drops into the forceful, smashing water.
The gray.
It's often gray here. It swallows up the mountain on our island, as it pours down. It skims over the water and blocks the comforting sun. Perhaps that's why all the houses are painted white and bright colors. Colors that you won't see on houses in most cities in the U.S. Colors that seem over dramatic and unkind to a looker on. But on gray days - those are the houses I want to stare at. I WANT white walls, white houses, lavender, pink, turquise houses. They look incredible when surrounded by the heavy gray.
Even on the gray days. Even on the windy days. Even on the days that are gray and windy ( ick ), blessings pour over.
Even on the gray days. Yesterday. Even on the windy days. Today. Even on the days that I struggle to stop incessantly thinking about how it was rarely windy in FL. How it was rarely gray in FL. The same blessings abound here on this tiny island. Here in this foreign country. My Creator didn't only bless in Florida. He didn't only reside in Florida. He didn't only notice us in Florida. It's different here. It's so so different.
but He's here.
and so are His blessings
so is His beauty
so is His protection