Her paint has started to chip, and now her skirt is looking a little worse for wear. Yes, she's old--she's lived with us many, many years. Yes, she's been packed and unpacked, packed and unpacked...hauled down a storage tub in the attic to come downstairs and join us for the fall and thanksgiving holidays. And yes, truth be told, her counterpart, father pilgrim, is looking a bit rough around the edges as well. Getting older sure isn't for sissies, is it?
But this pilgrim's decimated skirt, well, that's another matter.
Maybe we need to ask Mr. Bingley about that one.
For you see, yours truly foolishly placed Mr. and Mrs. Pilgrim beside our fireplace (not in the fireplace, mind you. I'm not a total idiot) where they've stood guard for multiple years of thanksgiving. I know I'm a broken record when it comes to the pilgrims, but oh my how they encourage and inspire me. They stand as silent sentinels reminding us of what it means to sacrifice, to encounter staggering difficulty, to suffer terrible losses...and yet to persevere in faith and choose gratitude. To choose thankfulness to God even in the face of oftentimes hard and bleak circumstances. Oh my, if they could choose praise and thanksgiving in the midst of all they endured and suffered, how can we possibly do any less?
Sorry, I digress. Sigh...back to Mr. Bingley.
When I placed our pilgrims in their usual spot, I'd forgotten that Bingley has never been around for Thanksgiving. And while Bingley has not been a voracious chewer of objects, furniture, or shoes, he does love his toys. He really loves his toys.
So when a new object suddenly appeared in his neck of the woods--meaning in the den and near the ground--he happily assumed his family had gotten him a new toy to chew, toss around, and enjoy carrying from room to room. Now while this might be great for the squeaky fish toy, the rubber ball, and the supposedly indestructible squeaky ring, it's not so great for a 15 year old pilgrim lady made of wood, paper, and straw.
When Bingley proudly trotted into the room holding her in his mouth, our reaction was less than welcoming. After rescuing Mrs. Pilgrim, I glared down at him and in my meanest voice demanded, "Bingley, what have you done?" He pretty much knew--
That is one guilty dog.
And those are the shoes of one irritated mom.
Don't worry. We made up...pretty much immediately. When it comes to dogs, it's pretty much impossible to stay mad for more than a minute or two....especially when they gaze up at you with those soulful, sorrowful eyes. Oh my, what a gift our dogs are--always loving your company (even when you're in a crummy mood), always seeking to please you, always overjoyed to see you when you've been gone for more than two and half minutes, and always happy just to sit and your feet (or in Bingley's case, to jump in your lap) in contented silence.
So today, a simple thank You to the Giver of all good gifts--thank You for Bingley, thank You for the gift of our pets, thank You for those "little," seemingly ordinary gifts in our lives that bring us so much joy. "Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change." (James 1:17)
Thank You for every one of those gifts, Abba. Might we this day be quick to notice those gifts You so extravagantly shower upon us. Free us from the indifference, busyness, and preoccupation that so often blinds us to Your wonderful grace and generosity in our lives.
Open our eyes to Your treasures, fill our hearts with gratitude, and cause our lips to overflow with Your praise so that You might be glorified and others might be encouraged and strengthened as well. The pilgrims did it so faithfully...help us to do the same. They might be looking a little worse for wear, but they still remind us--Keep persevering. Keep praising.
To God be the glory.
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