On Jesus
As I arrive nearer and nearer to the heart of things—at least
as close as I’m able to get right now—what lies at the center
are these four things: Jesus, Aaron, gratitude, and strength.
As I leave things behind—heavy things, things that have
kept me trapped and exhausted for so long—the outer ring
of this beautiful center is gratitude. I’m so thankful for what
it is to be human, and for this world and how gorgeous and
odd and heartbreakingly lovely it is. I’m so thankful for
blackberries and peonies and newborns and the smell of
rosemary and the sound of singing, especially the wild,
raspy, throaty kind. I’m so thankful for kisses from little
boys and the hush of snowfall and the scent of lavender. I’m
grateful for Paris and Jerusalem and San Francisco, and for
Three Lakes, Wisconsin; South Haven, Michigan; and the
bonfire pit at my in-laws’ house, where four generations of
that special family have roasted marshmallows and,
invariably, sung in perfect six-part harmony.
I’m so thankful for Aaron, for our marriage; for the
gentle, daily, weaving together of stories and souls and
bodies; for the life we’ve made together, the family. With
each passing year, I’m more thankful. We’re more than we
were a year ago, and a year before that.