My Own One Thousand Gifts

Over a month has gone by since I finished reading One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp.

Smiles fill my face as I think on how it ended up on my stack of books and the journey we took together.

I was meeting with the leadership of Women’s Ministry at my church when one of the ladies set down a few small boxes and said, “Take whatever you want. They are free. I just don’t have room for them anymore.” We had yet to start the actual meeting so I sauntered over to see what we had. They were all books.  Christian books. I flipped through a few and contemplated on two or three but not wanting to be greedy, I just picked up one on parenting {not a parent yet but want to be ready when the time comes} and headed back to my seat. Just then our fearless leader said to me, “Oh this one is really great. I love her writing style. It’s like poetry.” I had picked it up and considered it before but as I said, I didn’t want to take more than my share. “Seriously, Lindsey it’s pretty good. And take however many you want. I think Kathy just wants them gone.” She convinced me. Plus, I loved the pretty cover and it’s simple colors.

But once I got home, it went to the top of my book pile and stayed there for a few weeks.

I have a tendency to start books and never finish them. Partly because I never enjoyed reading.  As a child, I had a great imagination but a short attention span.  If it wasn’t a movie, I couldn’t stay focused.  Maybe that’s why I wanted to become an actress. Movies were the only thing that caught this little girls heart – hook, line and sinker. Regardless, despite my step-father’s greatest efforts to have me reading more, I never did.  That is unless the topic of verbiage interested me greatly.

As an adult I have found a handful of books that I simply could not put down. They make me want to read more. They excited me and filled my inner camera with a frenzy of images and scenes.  This was one of those books.  But trust me, we had our moments.  The topic of conversation between us cut right to the heart of my faith. It poked. It prodded. And there were times this book became airborne, landing across the bed after a childish pout.  Yet, moments still arose that caused a wave of tears to crash on my chest and blur my vision. I wiped up and continued forth.

{I wasn’t the only one in this relationship who had it rough. After accidentally leaving the book on my nightstand when I went to work, my lovely little puppy Moose decided it was fresh meat. The cover was destroyed, as you can see in the image above, but luckily the words were still intact.}

By the time I got to the last page ….. I was angry.  Angry because I knew God had taken me to a place I didn’t want to go.  I went there and back again {A Hobbit’s Tale? Nearly the beginning.} The adventure was so grand and though I missed it and knew I’d never be the same, I realized it wasn’t my adventure. It was Ann’s.  If I wanted my own journey, I’d have to stop saying “But-,” and step outside immediately “without a hat, a walking-stick or anything that {I} usually take when {I} go out (1)”. I would have to “run as fast as {my} feet could carry {me} (2)” into what God was calling me to do.

But I didn’t want to.

This book is all about giving thanks for everyday things.  Stopping in the middle of a moment and being thankful that God has given you something, anything. Life has been hard for Moviestar and I the last few years.  And it doesn’t appear to be brightening in my distant horizons. I’m angry about it. I don’t feel like giving thanks.  What do I have to be thankful for?

Ahhh….. that’s His question. And He wants it answered.

After feeling Him bombard me these past few weeks with a need for my thanks, I’ve realized it’s time and so I smile. God always has His way. I surrender to it and pray it will yield results I’m longing for: Contentment.

So follow me, will you? As I count My Own One Thousand Gifts.

(1-2) The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolken

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