It struck me as profound the way Ann writes of gifts becoming real when we name them. I love the way she brought us back to the Garden where God let Adam name the animals. Wow. He wasn’t just giving him busy work! He was allowing his creation to recognize the gift in each and every animal as he called it by its name.

This week I have been particularly awake to the details of hundreds, thousands of gifts within my immediate senses every moment of every day of life. The awareness is almost a hypersensitivity to everything around me, all at once, every minute. I can’t help but wonder if these are glimpses of what God feels like–only tiny glimpses, since (not being bound by time and space as we are) He knows all and is everywhere all the time. I wonder if Jesus felt this way, being human and God. That bears further thought. A lot of it, I think.

As I sat with my husband and daughter at dinner, I smiled thinking of Ann giving “Say Cheese!” new meaning and plunked my Nikon D80 down on the table next to my plate. This alarmed my table-mates none whatsoever, as they are becoming accustomed to such quirks, especially lately. I’m finding it rather beneficial having my camera nearby. Almost as handy as my journal and pen.

Seed: The naming of the gifts, as Ann described, intrigues me, thrills me, perplexes me. I feel compelled to dig deeper into the idea of recognizing gifts and their minute detail.

Water: I bought my One Thousand Gifts journal today. I plan to carry it with me in my purse. For Valentine’s Day, Steve bought me a new canvas purse/bag big enough to carry my journal and the book. He knows my heart.

Bloom: I’ve become pretty excited about the keeping of “the list”. Rosie asked me today if we could share the journal. I grinned at her and she explained that she was referring to the idea of having the journal open and available for anyone in the family to write in it. How perfectly appropriate for our family. So us.

Ironically, today I suddenly remember our old Family Journal I started back in 1992, a large spiral notebook we always kept on the coffee table for our family and friends to write or draw or doodle in. I went searching for it this afternoon and dug it out, dusted it off, and began to read back through the pages. 19 years of our family jottings in this tattered volume now beginning to fall apart with age and use and a couple too many moves. I laughed and even cried a little at some of the funny things the kids said. Family poetry, quotes, milestones, silliness…all of it a treasure.

So yes, I will share my journal with my family, leaving it open and inviting while we’re at home and carrying it with me in my new purse/bag when I go out. And one thing is certain, this awareness, this alertness, this gratitude that is quickly becoming inseparable from breathing, is only growing stronger by the minute.

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