It was a cool spring day. I remember it well. And it had been raining. An ordinary Tuesday morning. Or was it?
We had been to a series of doctor appointments for my husband. And each one harder than the next. I remember how tired I was of hearing the statistics. Each one revealing truth to us that my ears were not prepared to hear.
"You realize, Mr. and Mrs. Bender, this is a risky surgery, don't you?" One doctor had said. So cold. So.... matter-of-fact.
"Doesn't all surgery come with some sort of risk associated with it?" I'd asked. Frozen in fear and retaliating against what I already knew would be his answer.
"Yes. Yes you are right about that. But this one is... well... more risky."
And hadn't it been just 18 months ago that we underwent the same risk? Didn't he know what we had been through? His first surgery was risky. It was on on a business trip in Arizona just before Christmas of 2009. What was supposed to be a routine 4-day trip turned into a 21 day ordeal. A high fever... a severely elevated white blood cell count... a grim prognosis... diverticulitis... doctors preparing for the worst...thousands of miles from his home... a call to a wife with hard news... a ruptured bowel... inevitable surgery...surgeons... complications... respiratory failure... re-intibation... 50% chance of survival...a flight to Arizona... a scared daughter... a frightened wife and mother... a long recovery... painful restoration.
I wanted to run out of that doctors office. I wanted to run and hide and remember a more happier time. A cold, crisp day in March, some 15 years before when we had exchanged wedding vows in the First Presbyterian Church. Weren't we so beautiful then? So alive? So in love? So... whole?
I had known sad days before. I had known bad news before. Like the call we received on a cold snowy day in February that his friend from high school had been killed. Tragically. A car accident had taken the life of this 27 year-old man in front of his own daughter!
Or like the day we lost my sweet grandma. She was seventy year's young when God called her home. And we weren't ready. We weren't prepared. A visit to her bedside as she lay in a white, sterile hospital room were the memories I had of my last words with this sweet lady who had practically raised me!
But this time it was different.
He was my husband. And I wasn't ready to make such big decisions concerning life... and death.
But life is like that, isn't it? Some things sort of sneak up on you when you're not looking.
And I remember clearly the words of a pastor who once said, "You're in one of three stages in this life. You're either just coming out of a tough season, you're in one now or you're getting ready to go through one soon." And it's true. We all land in one of those 3 categories.
And I had already been counting gifts at this time. Knee-deep in a gratitude project I'd started months before. Inspired by a book and based on a dare, I had committed to listing 1,000 things I was grateful for.
Seemed simple really. Who can't find one thousand things they are grateful for? And it's so easy to find the things you are grateful for when you are paying attention...
Your children's laughter
The smell of a freshly baked apple pie
A cool afternoon breeze in the spring
The crackling of a fireplace
A smile
A hug
The birds
The trees
It's all beauty. All around us. And it's when we choose to SEE these things with eyes wide open that we can truly give thanks to the God who created this vast universe with all it's pleasures.
But what do you do when you're counting gifts and the joy doesn't come because all you hear is noise? When the reality of your world is doubting doctors and grim prognosis's and you can't see past today because today is littered with uncertainty and pain and sadness and tears? What then?
And I dig deep into the word to find it and I desperately call on God for help because this journey - it's not easy. And the road is sometimes curvy and the valleys sometimes run too deep and too wide. And we get tired and we loose sight of why we're here.
This... this is reality.
It's reality for cancer patients.
It's reality for parent's who've lost a child.
It's reality for victims of rape.
It's reality for those who've been imprisoned or impoverished.
It's reality... we all hurt sometimes. And I search for what to call it... maybe it's this "fight for joy" that's so hard sometimes.
But we have a word that we can hold tightly too. It's a word I've only recently discovered. The word is Eucharisteo.
The Greek word, Eucharisteo can be found in Luke 22:19... "And He took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them..."
Gave thanks reads as Eucharisteo.
And isn't that a beautiful word?
Eucharisteo.
The root word for eucharisteo is 'charis', meaning, "grace". Jesus took the bread and saw it as grace and grave thanks. He took the bread and knew it to be a gift and He gave thanks.
But there's more!
Eucharisteo, thanksgiving, envelopes the Greek word for grace, 'charis'. But it also holds it's derivative, the Greek word 'chara', meaning "joy".
So consider this word... Eucharisteo... like a braid of three cords...
Grace - that which God gives us.
Thanksgiving - that which we can offer back to Him.
Joy - that which can be found in the midst of thankfulness.
And isn't that PRECISELY what Jesus did before He endured the cross.
He "took the bread and gave THANKS."
He gave thanks.
And still... even still... knowing what sort of pain and suffering He would endure... He shared a meal with his beloved disciples and gave thanks.
I find these words breathtaking.
But it's what Jesus came to do. He came to save mankind from their own sin and suffering. He endured the pain that should have been for you and for me. He erased the debt. He went to the cross doing what? Giving thanks.
It was in pure gratitude that He became the least to become the greatest story ever told.
And doesn't God expect the same from me?
Jesus offered thanksgiving for even that which would break Him and crush Him and wound Him and yet yield a bounty of Joy. So that you and I can experience the life filled with joy which is found on the mountain of gratitude.
Gratitude, I believe, can save us from all the pain this world has to offer. And we have REAL pains. REAL problems. REAL sickness and disease and suffering.
Gratitude, according to Psalm 50:23 is directly linked to our salvation... "He who sacrifices thank offerings honors me, and he prepares the way so that I may show him the salvation of God."
And isn't that it? Isn't expressing gratitude often times a sacrifice?
It was for me. On that cool spring day in early 2011.
I will admit the gratitude that had once poured from my lips before that spring day now came to a screeching halt. The words... they wouldn't come. My reality was overwhelming and the mountain was too big. Gratitude would not come easy and this gratitude journal seemed to have become another unfulfilled commitment.
But on that drive home it hit me. On that drive home in that early morning in April God spoke to me as audibly as I have ever heard Him before. In my spirit I heard these words... "Wendy - Trevor is not yours, He's mine. He belongs to Me. And I love him more."
"I love him more."
I can't explain the calm that came over me on that crisp spring morning. The peace was incredible. And now it began making sense.
You see - God doesn't promise us days without rain. He doesn't promise us a life without pain. But when we can take the pain, the suffering, the ugly in this world and turn it in to praise before a Father who's grace is freely given, He can use it and make it something beautiful.
Phil 4:11-12, "I have learned how to be content with whatever I have. I know how to live on almost nothing or with everything. I have learned the secret of living in every situation, whether it is with a full stomach or empty, with plenty or little."
It was Martin Luther King Jr. that said, "If you want to change the world, you've got to pick up a pen." And wasn't that what I was doing - counting gifts... blessings... before I allowed fear and bitterness to settle in and make it's home within me?
"Life change comes when we receive life with thanks and ask for nothing to change."
I had found myself continuing to ask God - why me? Why him? Why now?
But "God wants our questioning of Him to be smaller and or desire for Him to be bigger."
We were created by God - for God. To bring honor and glory to Him. Period. That's it. Why are we so trying to complicate it? Everything we do should bring honor and glory to Him. And how can we do that when we're questioning His goodness? I am reminded of a song that really got me through those few rough weeks before Trevor's surgery this past June... Maybe you've heard it - it's called Blessings by Laura Story. Here's a portion of those lyrics...
"We pray for blessings. We pray for peace. Comfort for families, protection while we sleep. We pray for healing, for prosperity. We pray for Your mighty hand to ease our suffering. We pray for wisdom, your voice to hear. We cry in anger when we cannot feel you near. We doubt your goodness, we doubt your love. As if every promise from your word was not enough. But what if your blessings come through raindrops, what if your healing comes through tears? What if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know your here? And what if trials of this life - are your mercies in disguise?"
When we fail to give thanks... when we fail to extend gratitude - we are basically saying we doubt God's goodness and we don't believe in His sovereignty.
You see I have been abundantly blessed in this life.
I've been blessed by parents who adore me.
Blessed by a wonderful husband whom I don't deserve.
Blessed by a daughter who is smart and respectable and who loves the Lord.
I have a nice house, have had some wonderful jobs, great friends, wise mentors, good health, reliable transportation, and a deep relationship with my Heavenly Father.
But it is only when we are completely emptied that we become most full. Because it's through the cracks that we can see the most light.
I have a pitcher at my house that was broken some years ago. A family heirloom that was shattered into pieces when it fell from the top of our refrigerator some years ago. Not wanting to part with this precious pitcher that had been used to pour drinks from by my grandma and my grandma's grandma, I decided to attempt to put the pieces back together. It was a long process and it took a lot of time and patience. But I was able to restore MOST of the pieces to their original location, forming together once again... a whole pitcher. The one thing it is lacking in it's wholeness is the ability to be used for holding liquids. There are too many hairline fractures that would not be able to withstand a heaviness of water or juice or milk. But that is okay. I can use it for other things. I can use it to remind me that God uses us... in all of our brokenness... in all of our failures... even when we've messed up... even when the joy is gone... even when there are too many cracks in us. God can still use us. I am convinced that that pitcher is more beautiful now than it was before it was cracked - because now it allows the sunlight to penetrate it's porcelain walls. A life's lesson was birthed through that cracked pitcher. And I am thankful for the story I can now share with others who need to hear about restoration and reconciliation. And gratitude.
Because what I have learned is that Thanksgiving is the evidence of our acceptance of whatever He gives.
Whatever He chooses to give.
Eucharisteo... the Greek word with the hard meaning.
I don't want to live in the darkness. I long to live in the light. I long to find the joy that Christ died on a cross for me to have. And so I must learn to accept every gift He gives and receive it with gratitude in my heart and thanksgiving on my lips.
And so my gratitude project continues. And I realize it's not just about keeping a list. It's about making thanksgiving a habit in my daily living. In order to honor Him I must learn how to be thankful with everything and in everything. And so I press forward in my fight for joy. Because pleasing the Father is what is most important... to me! It's the discipline this weary soul needs because though the world is ugly, it is beautiful. And I can slow and I can trust and I can receive each moment as a gift. Eucharisteo. Eucharisteo. Eucharisteo.
And again I read... "Life change comes when we receive life with thanks and ask for nothing to change."
My list continues. Those things I am thankful for? I'm past 700 now in my journaling. Still practicing. Still building the discipline that will draw me closer to my creator.
# 604 Smiles from strangers
# 618 Wind through my hair
# 638 Early morning quiet times with God
# 692 A full tank of gas
# 699 Lazy Sunday afternoons
# 711 A cracked pitcher
# 723 Good... no great doctors
# 740 A husband's restoration of health
# 749 God's mercy
# 754 A second chance
I choose gratitude. Habakkuk 3:18 says, "I will take joy." And I believe it starts with a heart of gratitude.
I choose gratitude. Will you?
Finding JOY in the JOurneY,
www.wendybender.blogspot.com
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