Is it when the clouds part and the stream of light dazzles our vision to the manna of our desires.
Do we praise Him for the great days that refuse to be halted as the bread of heaven becomes the menu’s staple.
Are we eager to dance and rejoice to the hymns of delight when we have barely enough to fulfill the quota of the day.
Can we shout for joy and adorn Him with gratitude and wonder as we buckle to the weight of unrequited dreams and incomplete tendencies.
How do we begin to thank God when the days are short and the nights never convert to daylight.
Is God magnificent and merciful when He saves and protects without fail — or does He deserve more adulation when His presence is devastatingly absent from the trials that triumphantly repel any evidence of the cross He bore.
Does the weight of our doubt surpass all understanding as we glide into the stages of grief that begin the moment of your first cry.
How do we thank the One who forgives and forgets but never allows us the grace to do so without burden.
I think of the past and contemplate the future with cautious envy that I was even permitted to call my spirit — home.
That’s when I thank God.