Bombarded

I can't get away from it. It's like the green Volkswagen van that our friends used to drive: once you've seen one, you suddenly start seeing them all over the place.

But it's no longer green Volkswagens that pursue me. It's grace. Moment by moment grace.

Two years ago I was first intrigued by Ann Voskamp's blog -- and now her book -- through which she explores the idea of looking for God's gift in absolutely everything we encounter, from the beauty of a delicately falling snowflake or the scent of freshly baked bread right down to the hard "gifts," like pain and suffering.



I started chronicling these gifts. I'm over 800 now. But only because my mind is still limited --  still thinking small -- and my hand simply cannot pen the grace fast enough. The gifts are everywhere. Even now, I feel the sun's light shifting on my face as I sit at my desk and type away. A bird trills from a branch just ten feet away, and my girls are giggling upstairs in their dress-up clothes. Gifts. All of them, gifts.



When my mind drifts away from seeing each moment as a gift, I'm soon reminded to look closely and try again. Recently, I couldn't get away from the reminders. God clearly had a message for me.

I opened my Spurgeon devotionals and read, "Beloved Christian reader, in matters of grace you need a daily supply. You have no store of strength . . . . It is a very sweet assurance that a daily portion is provided for you. . . . Enjoy your continual allowance." Yes -- a daily portion to enjoy. Even an hourly portion. Dare I suggest a moment by moment portion? If my 800-and-counting list is any indication, then I would answer a hearty, "Yes!"



And then again the reminder came on a Sunday morning: I am called to be faithful in the moment. Each moment, I submit in faith. And what better way to submit in faith than to praise the Giver of gifts for every blessing that has been crammed into that moment?

The service concluded with a song that left me in hallelujah tears:

What can I do but thank You,
What can I do but give my life to You
Hallelujah, hallelujah
What can I do but praise You,
Everyday make everything I do a hallelujah 

A hallelujah, hallelujah.

Again, what better way to make everything I do a hallelujah, than to praise the Giver of these moment by moment gifts?



As if that wasn't enough, a friend sent me a message in response to a recent post. She could relate to the frustration of raising a . . . spirited child. Her words echoed the message that I'd been hearing again and again over the last few days: "I'm trying very hard to not just look with hope to the future, but to also see the the daily gifts of now . . . ."

The daily gifts of now. Now. Each moment. Given as a gift, given that I may choose to accept . . . and praise.



I dare you. Stop for just a minute and take a look around. Do you see it? The gifts are everywhere. The sights -- yes, even the pile of laundry! (Father, thank you for clothing!). The sounds -- yes, even the commotion! (Father, thank you for children's voices!) The smells -- yes, even the diapers! (Father, thank you for . . . um . . . functioning babies!) All of them opportunities to accept the gift and offer praise. Before you know it, those green vans are going to bombard you from all directions. You'll never be able to get away.

"What Can I Do" by Paul Baloche