My Box Is Full

A new child arrived in time for Thanksgiving and Christmas, in moments like these, thanksgiving comes easy. Early on Sunday, Cecilia delivered Ouray (you-ray) Lee—both safe and healthy. Every time we’ve gone into childbirth, I’ve asked God for only two things: “safe mom, safe baby,” and the Lord gave more than I asked—typical.

Today, Routt asked if he could have one of my boxes. I said yes, and he carried it into the living room. A few minutes later, he came back to my desk and said, “Hey, Dad, my box is full.” He had gathered his favorite toys and packed the box full. Sorry, Routt—you just became an illustration.

Thanksgiving comes easy when it's obvious—a new baby, a new home, a good diagnosis. We all have moments when “thanks” comes without effort. But the more I read Scripture, the more convinced I am that we always have more to be thankful for than we notice. Years of health, provision, safety, a good neighborhood, good schools, good friends—so familiar it’s unnoticed. Maybe if you picked up an empty box and gathered up the good, you’d find yourself saying what Routt said: “Hey, Dad, my box is full.”

So this holiday season—Thanksgiving and Christmas—our culture is deluded, and I had to specify: grab some old photo albums, or, if you’re younger, swipe through your Instagram. Spend a few minutes and reflect on the goodness of God. If you do, you’ll see it: your box is full.

Bless you,
Pastor