HE GIVES AND TAKES AWAY

Summer nights at the Cottage View Drive-In. Now it is closed for good. But I am thankful for the memories: football with strangers between the cars, too much popcorn and licorice, running like a pack of lunatics at intermission, laying on quilts from car rooftops to watch the sun go down.

Long talks beside this desk with Grace. Now she lives in Kentucky. But I am thankful for those talks that blossomed a precious, enriching friendship of truth, beauty, and inspiration. I am thankful for the Alley and the cherry tree, the creativity, the laughter, the tears, the barefoot walks, the mud fights, and the violet lilacs weaved into our long hair. 

Mindless hours at this dock with Joh. Now she lives in Texas. But I am thankful for how He has stretched us and planted an everlasting, unfading flame of hope at the pit of our souls; I am thankful for all the mischief we got into, all the stories we can someday tell our children and grandchildren, all the stories that we will still create, all the sunrises and sunsets we've caught with our bare hands. 

Dangling my feet from this windowsill, breathing deeply the winter of the white valley that climbed into a mountain sprawling on and further: sometimes singing, sometimes reading, sometimes writing, sometimes silence. Now I am back in Minnesota. But I am thankful for those moments of being still, where my Savior grew near. And I am thankful for those beautiful gems of people I was blessed to know and serve alongside. 

The summer I met a man who became my dearest friend, and the love that grew and grew, seeming to tie us to stories we'd tell and adventures we'd live, God in our midst. "Love either grows or it dies:" and now our love is no more. But I am thankful for him. I am thankful for what was and what could have been and the radiant joy that overflowed my heart; an overwhelming blessing that felt as if I'd need one thousand birthdays until it would sink in. 

The friendship shared between these little women and myself, unified in love and beauty. Now we are, as a whole, somewhat estranged. But I am thankful for the forest where we danced and chattered like spring birds awakening from sleep, for our songs as we crossed the Stone Arch Bridge, for the shared interests and longings. They are beautiful woman.

Romantic, idealistic dreams, passionate and idolatrous dreams stored up in my young heart. Now those dreams, scrawled over multiple journals, are stained with spilled ink, black and invasive. But I am thankful how the dusty dreams have changed--developed--been graffiti-ed over by a deepening, a richer truth, a new world discovered like Marco Polo or Columbus; beauty in the ashes or gold revealed after a fire. I am thankful because now, I have a greater need for God and a firmer grasp of the gospel. And it is exciting, because I also believe that God has an even greater story for me to tell than those dusty ones I made up in my head at the age of sixteen. 

Grandpa. Now he is gone and his favorite hat just hangs on a hook by the back door. But I am thankful for him, that he was my grandpa. I am thankful for his beautiful laugh and the way his eyes would fill with stars when he'd say, 'Don't let the bed-bugs bite' or 'I love you.' His long hugs, his sometimes-eccentric intellectual opinions on everything, his garden where he'd let me help him weed, where I learned that being covered in dirt and sweat was one of my favorite things. How he'd sit in a lawn chair in the summer and watch us play on the tire swing and climb the trees, and how in the winter, he'd sit by the tall window and watch us play in the snow and wave at us, his face wrinkled in a beautiful laugh. 

 God gives and takes away, but He is good, He is righteous. I promise. 

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