Cataracts of ingratitude

Birdsong - it's there again. The gentle chirruping of the family of winged creatures who have nested in the living screen of trees and shrubs that line our land. They sing sweetly, joyfully, filling the air and those gentle vibrations get right inside me, moving that little membrane that transmits the sounds to my understanding. It's a gift.
How much in life do I really take for granted? I think about the ten men that Jesus healed of leprosy and only one came back to thank him. Do I thank Him for the grace that is daily on my life? Do I thank Him that I can hear and see? Not really. Certainly not very often.
Ingratitude seems rooted in my being and it's hard to tug out. What about if Adam and Eve had been grateful for what they had in the garden? Maybe things would have turned out differently and they wouldn't have craved what was forbidden for them.
I listen again to the birds still singing - their clear call got lost in the myriad of my thoughts and questions. Joy isn't found in looking at me or looking at the "what if's," joy is right here in the simplicity of these feathered friends witnessing of the goodness of our Creator. It is enough right now to receive the gift of bird song and praise God for His goodness to me. He is altogether good and every gift in my life comes from Him (James 1:17).
I love feeling that shift of my mood from feeling discontented and abandoned to fullness of gratitude, knowing that He is taking care of me. The truth penetrates the darkness and the lies and there is joy in the recognition that all the goodness in my life is because of Him. The lie that He has forsaken me screams so loud but it can't drown out the truth - the tiny feathered body sings louder and is more piercing as it sings of heavenly goodness and protection. He will never leave me or forsake me (Hebrews 13:5). That is my security and that is my peace. I rest in the fullness of this moment and the song comes out of me:
Thank you God......
for feathered friends that sing your praises.
for morning rays casting golden in this room.
for the way the branches dance in the gentle breeze, heavy laden with blossom.
for lush green grass.
for my husband's presence right there in the next room.
for children, sweetly sleeping.
for your mercies, new every morning.

Communion happens right here in the light of dawn as I receive His gifts one by one and say thank you, and the cataracts of ingratitude are dissolved so that I can see clearly again.

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