…At least to start with?
Lord, the fire in the woodstove is beautiful. The poustinia I’m in was the only one available today, and it wasn’t my first preference. But this stove has glass windows and I can watch the dance of the flame—so soothing, so uplifting. Thank you.
I never get to poustinia this early in the evening. It seems there’s always one last thing to do, and I usually arrive so late and so tired. Today I arrived early and could take a walk. I picked some wild flowers and found a pop bottle to use as a vase. It was fun to make a wildflower bouquet for you, dearest Mother. I placed it at the foot of the poustinia cross. That’s where you stood, Mary, isn’t it?
Thank you for standing by me, too, when I’m struggling on my own cross. Thank you. I don’t know if “thank you” is enough. I could say “I love you,” but sometimes I’m not so sure I know what love is. Even in my caring for others and my attempts to live in your will, there is so much self-concern. But it’s more straightforward when I’m grateful. And I am, you know.
Each day I’m grateful to be alive, at least most of the time. I’m grateful for the struggles, too; they help me to understand the difficulties of others. Thank you for the struggles shared by others; they help me to accept my own.
Thank you for each day, whether its prospects look possible, or it’s just another hard day to get through. Thank you, Lord, thank you.
I want to say “I love you,” but I’m not sure I know what I mean by that. But I can say “thank you” and know what I mean.
Do you think that’s enough, at least to start with?
Originally printed in Restoration, March 2000.
[Photo: St. Ksenia poustinia photo by ©Jenna Gernon]
