This stuff of gratitude that I've been writing, practicing, it's hard work. Transformation comes slowly, more slowly than I'd like. I wake up this morning and think of my journal, that I made it through one whole day without writing a single thing down, and after such an inspiring start in the morning with my post on tuning the senses. Reached the end of the dull and senses were dulled.
It's not so smooth a transition, from theory to practice. But all this writing, this theorizing, dies prematurely if not fed by action.
I return to an earlier chapter in Ann Voskamp's One thousand gifts, where she's struggling with practicing this life of seeing gratitude, and it is me she's describing: "Senses are impaired if they don't sense the Spirit and somebody, tell me, how do I tear open tear-swollen eyelids to see through this for what it really is?"
I saw those tear-swollen eyelids in the mirror this morning when I woke up, and I know them well. So how do I tear them open to see through?
Deep breath in, deep breath out. Open them wide and look up, not at these eyes. Grace is falling here, as it is every day. It's time to drink, to fill, to empty, and then to fill again. I can't do this without grace.