Giving thanks

"Give me neither poverty nor riches" Proverbs 30:8

She was alright. She was not alright. Her sins like filthy rags waiting to be washed, threatened to expose her. Was she an angel? No. Was she a demon? No. But like some half made thing she dangled in the air in the suspense of time.

She was thankful for certain things. Things that made her smile- the remembering of her birthday, good food and family and friends. Small mercies littered her way as she asked for blessings. There were critics. Some people didn't like her and she knew it. Hateful faces would appear from nowhere looking to catch her out. She was full of humanity but could also be as cold and as ruthless as the next person.

Sometimes she longed for death, but at other times sought out life. She refused to be pigeon holed by race or colour, but knew that if your were lucky, you ended up in a box at the end of the day, buried beneath the earth. There were just so many ways of dying that she almost forgot about the most important- the living.

There were those who went around saying 'I've done nothing wrong', who forgot their sins and misdemeanours. The hypocrites and, the liars who covered their tracks of sin were everywhere. But God sees all and will judge the living and the dead. She couldn't be too hard on anyone without being too hard on herself. the world was full of hate but it was also intermingled with love. The parent disciplining a child, the owner disciplining a dog, and the

God given intelligence of cats. She didn't mind the religion, as long as they served a divine being, with the aim towards the peace of perfection.

There was no end to life nor death. The story never ended. One generation goes, another one appears to take its place. The lord rules over them all. You can only go so far in this life without him the maker of the heavens and earth. Without him, my talents would be useless, without firm foundation. I remember the song- 'the wise man builds his house upon the rock(s)', and the rain came tumbling down. She knew that she was protected by God, and that whatever the devil threw at her, she would withstand it as her faith was strong. She had been humbled, and knew that she would be humbled again and again, but the battle was worth it. As long as it wasn't a futile battle, she could withstand the blows and the hurts, as she was no angel herself.

Sometimes she longed to abandon her faith and lunge into the arms of so called freedom, but she couldn't do that. Duty called, and she had to respond.

She wanted to thank her parents for showing her the right way and path and guiding her through life's difficulties. She knew what she wanted, to die of old age, naturally, peacefully in her sleep, emptied of bitterness and pain alike. Maybe she'd make it. maybe she wouldn't- who was to know. The gorgon could always raise its ugly head, and destroy the best made plans.

Her shadow sometimes haunted her. She remembered the poem 'I met a man who wasn't there...' and she thought of herself and others. This dread of the unknown, kept her alive as well as centred. She wanted the wisdom of King Solomon and the love of King David to follow and bless her path. She wanted forever, not just some short gap of a refill, but she knew that it came at a price. The price of possession is a costly thing, where neither love nor work win.

The sun, moon and stars would outlive and outlast her mortal frame. As long as she had enough to get by, she was happy. No-one could envy her, for she did not have anything to envy. Her invisibleness was becoming apparent everyday. She was disappearing and she knew it. Her forgetfulness was getting worse, but God was good, and reminded her of the importance of people everywhere, not matter where they be. She couldn't please everyone all the time, but she could near try. God would make up the rest.

This trust, some called it naivety, echoed and pulsated through the whole of her being. She remembered the wisdom of Solomon, how even though he had angered God, he was still blessed. How David, upon seeing Bathsheba bathing, went against the very essence of his soul, and disobeyed God.

Man knows when he is wrong, but is unable to correct himself. It takes God, working through the wisdom of others, to judge and to condemn.

We are all awaiting sentence of some kind or another. No-one gets off scot free. Either their crimes are remembered and recorded, or they themselves have to live with what they get. Everyone has a conscience, they just don't want to be reminded of it.

She reflected on things deeply and wanted to see beyond the surface. The deep despair that she sometimes encountered came from the love and discipline of the lord. She remembered her bible and the stories that it held. How the prophets were protected by God, and how his love energised her emptiness and turned it into something complete and good.

She did not want a legacy of herself, being a sinner, but rather a simple tree or a flower to remember herself by. All she knew was that God was good, all the time. His mercies and wonders never ceased no matter how bad things got.

She would proclaim his greatness throughout all the land, and boast of his forgiveness and passion. She would secretly laugh at herself in all her vanity and pride, and stand vulnerable before him, declaring her unworthiness.

Blessed be the name of the Lord. He is my maker and provider. I am at his mercy. Only he can destroy me. Amen and blessed be his name.