Thank you

I am thankful for my story.

For parents who  told me I was loved, that God loved me, and that I had a purpose on this earth, every single day. For the rooster and geese who chased me, for the baby goats born on cold spring nights, for the one-eyed pony that I preferred to walk like a dog.  I am thankful for the shallow creek I played in and for the pond I fished in with the bluegills my dad put there for me to catch. I am thankful for the song that would rise up from the aviaries when my mom approached, love songs from the birds she treasured.

I am thankful for the surprise sisters. For late night laughs to help us cope with life’s awful curveballs and reenactments of Bear Grylls escapades (for the love of England!). For their sweet babies and the brother-in-laws I am just now getting to know.

I am thankful for a mom who’s hardest life lesson to me, the one I rejected for 27 years, has now become the pep talk I give myself on the hard days. Pick yourself up by your bootstraps and keep on going . . . I am thankful for the strange humor she had, for the argument in the pasture that ended with her throwing horse poop at me. And that her last coherent words to me were deep, and wise, and will run through my blood for the rest of time.

I am thankful for a dad who took me fishing, taught me to shoot a gun, how to grind deer meat on the kitchen counter, who took me for doughnuts on the way to church, and who first introduced me to music. A dad who doesn’t know a stranger, who holds the homeless and preaches from giant stages, who will give you the shirt off of his back even if it means he will go without.

I am thankful for grandparents who keep going and going, pouring out love and attention and delicious food and raunchy jokes. Who are always so faithful and steadfast. I am thankful for the aunts and uncles and cousins. For forest runs through the red dirt. For summers of flying across the lakes with the wind in our faces, for fish fries and camp-fires and tide-pool adventures.

I am thankful for Little Country Church.
The church my parents stumbled into when they first began their journey. For drive-thru nativities, Christmas parades, dinner theaters, and years and years of laughter back stage. For baptisms at Lassen Pines, power outages and Mountain Meadows, for hide-and-seek and ultimate laser tag on Bechelli, and breaking ground on Canby. For the late-night Catan and Phase 10 games with the best group of friends.

I am thankful for the boy I met when I was nineteen who tossed out the mold. Who wooed me with his humor, his sense of justice, his need for authenticity, who has loved me so wildly and faithfully that there has NEVER been a day I doubted. For being my safe place when my world came crashing down, and again, and again, and again. Who reminded me who I was when I sat in the ashes of all that ever was. Who took me along on the adventure of a lifetime. Who kisses me every day. Who gave me babies to love, who works his butt off so I can homeschool, for a man who- though dealt a crappy hand in life from the start- has kept on going. Who re-wrote his story and gives God all the credit.

I am thankful for the children of my youth. For beautiful faces that reflect our features, who teach me every day that I have no idea what I’m doing, who tease their brother with all the different phrases for “water”, for their obsession with the Adventures in Odyssey, and that, even though they get far too much screen time, I also have the pleasure and pain of being their teacher. For every tear, laugh, scream, tantrum, hilarity, for it all, thank you, Lord. 

I am thankful for a pastor who spoke life into my husband on a cold, sad, night in November 2014. For North Dakota, and Hope Church, the place I said I would never, ever go. For dinners in friends’ homes, surrounded by kids and chaos and laughter and tears. For nearly four years of the unrelenting onslaught of nature, for seeing that one funnel cloud, for the northern lights and the wind and rain and green skies that confirmed what I already knew- God is powerful and loving and beautiful and so very real. For viral videos and a Church family that can laugh right along with you. For coffee shop, Riverfest, Indian reservation music sessions with two incredible people, and all of the friends who came along with us. For FRAMILY.

I am thankful for a precious group of people in Montana who gave a chance. For Alliance Fellowship who rolled out the welcome mat like we were long-lost family. Who have made us feel like we have always been here, and who have eased the sting of leaving those who came before. For old friends who still call and text, and for new friends who do the same. For church potlucks, for communion found over the breaking of garlic bread in marinara, for the elderly and children and all those in between gathering for games of hide-n-seek. For my kitchen view of the Rocky Mountains and vibrant sunsets and a house that has brought our little family together in entirely new ways. For so much laughter.

I am thankful for the Sanguinettis and Corradinis.

I am thankful that I held my mother right out of this life and into the next.
I am thankful for Deborah.
I am thankful for eleven step-brothers and sisters.
I am thankful for redemption and forgiveness and that, just because all looks lost . . . I can say with FULL CONVICTION of a life that has lived to see it over and over and over and over and over . . .

Jesus always reveals new hope. It rides in like soldiers on stallions cresting that hill, just when the battle seems lost, just when it’s quiet and dark and there seems like nothing left . . . He comes like a trumpet blast, like a wave of refreshing, like the sudden melting of a thousand winters, life blooming on an earth too scorched to breathe, filling scarred hands with the oil of anointing, rapid rivers flowing out of empty hearts, flash floods of joy where once there was only parched earth. For impossible mountains ripped from their place and thrown out of the way. For new paths forged in the wilderness, for walking where we never thought we would walk, and surviving and coming out on the other side with dancing. How was it even possible? Oh Lord. Only by You.

That though words flow, they aren’t enough. They’re never enough, to say “Thank you.”

Thank you, Lord.
Thank you, Lord.