Jesus, relics fill our home. The clock passed down by my husband’s great-grandparents. The cross fashioned by my cousin from the last tree my 90yo, ax-wielding father chopped. A candle holder created by my brother. Two cheerful bird masterpieces drawn by our grandchildren. All reside on the piano my husband bought me after he graduated from medical school. OMG, my cup — and our house — runneth over with blessings.
Father, You know that when I had to give up my two-pot-a-day coffee habit, all mankind — especially my smart husband — avoided me. But when I think of those who cultivate, harvest and package the decaf tea I now consume, OMG, I’m thankful that when You say no to one thing, You already plan to say yes to another good thing.
Image by Jan Helebrant from Pixabay.
Lord, You know I’ve lived in a few odd homes — a studio apartment with passage to the bathroom through the closet; two rooms in the back of a church (we were a family of six); and ditto, in a thatch hut. Thank You, Jesus, for our current normal house. As we age, though, Lord, we wonder what the future will hold. A move nearer our kids? A retirement center? A nursing home? OMG, thank You that wherever we lay our heads, we are always at home with You.
Images by Królestwo Nauki and OpenClipart-Vector from Pixabay
Jesus, I’m sure You take great delight in the animals You created. But though we live in town. many pawprints in our snowy yard indicate we are running a nature preserve. I understand they are foraging for food during these cold, wintry months. But OMG, come spring, when our garden sprouts and flowers bloom—and their food supply increases—could You please tell them that if they’re looking for the Golden Corral, they’re at the wrong address.
Images by Walter Antonio Boeger, Dmitry Abramov, and rabzil from Pixabay.
Jesus, If You’d told us this back in the ’70s, we would have said, “You’re kidding, right? No way could love at 71 be better than at 21!” After all, in 1925, we’d be a saggy, baggy, gray-haired couple whose idea of a wild night out would be playing euchre after 10 o’clock. And, we, in our youthful wisdom, would have been right.
But OMG, You, who are Love personified, have poured Yourself into our lives for decades. And love just keeps getting better.
Jesus, I didn’t know February’s named after a Roman festival that emphasized cleaning rituals. Cleaning?! Ack, does this mean I have to clean my fridge? Under it too?!
Image by syklimkin from Pixabay
Instead, You say You want to scrub the cruddy corners of my life for me. And that Your service is free, already paid in full.
Sounds like the best deal in the world! Though, OMG, I have a feeling Mr. Clean …
has nothing on You!
Image by Gert Altmann from Pixabay
O Lord, You know I suffered when Hubby said, “We have to take down this tree before it goes bald.” Before long — maybe not until Valentine’s Day? — we’ll store the evergreens, the toy village, and the manger scene. I’ll fuss over the whole process like a sulky six-year-old.
But OMG, I thank You that Christmas is never over. Emmanuel, whose name means “God with us,” can’t be shut in a closet or stuck in the garage. Jesus walks my world and yours, seeking whom He can bless.
Image by Raquel Candia from Pixabay.
#January #alwaysChristmas #JesusBFF
Father, of course, You recall my grandson’s comment about my morning fiber cereal: “Grandma, that looks like the pellets we feed Torti” (his pet tortoise).
“Probably tastes like them too,” I wrinkled my nose. “But I don’t eat this because I like it. I eat it because it’s good for me.”
Thank you, Lord, for an unplanned lesson for this picky little eater. Plus a reminder for Grandma, who would much prefer a daily diet of chocolate, Boston cream-filled doughnuts.
OMG, thank You for our marriage of 50 years! Please help us, whether dining in uptown restaurants and cheering winning ball teams — or shoveling snow and cleaning bathrooms — to celebrate life together every day!
O Lord, if we add one more gift to the tree, we won’t be able to sit in the living room. If we add more food to the fridge, it may fall through the kitchen floor. Clean sheets and sleeping bags await the four generations who soon will arrive. But OMG, please come on in! The Guest of Honor, You are so very, very welcome.
Merry Christmas from the Phillipses!