Words kill, words give life…you choose. Proverbs 18:21

Image result for sticks and stones may break my bones

I am grateful for landscapers who know how to make flower beds beautiful and change with the seasons.

I am grateful for my pots and pans and my mixer.

I am grateful for people who know how to have private conversations and are conscious of their louder voices, separating themselves from public.

I am grateful that I have access to and am able to take a shower every day.

I am grateful for the way old hymns come into my thoughts.

“Fear not, I am with you, O be not dismayed,
for I am your God, and will still give you aid;
I’ll strengthen you, help you, and cause you to stand,
upheld by my righteous, omnipotent hand.

I am grateful for inexpensive gigantic enormous humongoloid mums and grateful for Roxanne who told me where to buy them.

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I am grateful to be a CASA volunteer after wanting to be one for many years.

I am grateful for clean tea towels hanging in the kitchen.

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I am grateful for the ability to get away in the middle of the day and take a break.

I am grateful for a level head.

I am grateful for paper plates and bowls but I am also grateful that I don’t depend on them every day and have nice plates and bowls from which to eat.

I am grateful for moments when my back is not aching.

 

I’m so glad I learned to trust Him,
Precious Jesus, Savior, friend;
And I know that He is with me,
Will be with me to the end.

Jesus, Jesus, how I trust Him!
How I’ve proved Him o’er and o’er!
Jesus, Jesus, precious Jesus!
O for grace to trust Him more!

 

I am grateful for soft socks.

I am grateful for ideas my boss gives to me for gift-giving.

I am grateful for a freezer cleaned out.

I am grateful for a beautiful email that Sam sent to me this morning, the longest one he’s ever sent to me. Men, words matter. Written words matter. Spoken words matter, too.

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I am grateful for Mary’s pasta e fagioli that she shared with me.

I am grateful to have been invited to a birthday party tomorrow evening.

I am grateful for the anticipation of grandchildren filling our house with noise and fingerprints.

I am grateful that the words that once stung and hurt me deeply are beginning to fade.

I am grateful for the moments when they are front and center, causing me to relive and remember, re-hurt and re-sting, so that I never repeat what was done to me.

And the things on earth will grow strangely dim, in the light of His glory and grace.

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