O give thanks unto the Lord; call upon his name: make known his deeds among the people.
(Psalm 105:1 KJV)
Dear reader,
I was sitting in my garden earlier today, attempting to read a book that has stood on my shelf unopened for many years.
It is a big fat book. I like big fat books. Or at least I used to, back in the day. Back in the days when I had tons and tons of time to myself, as a young single woman. Back in the days when sleep eluded me and so I read into the small hours of the morning. I began to like these big fat books called sagas, because I knew they’d offer me a good many hours of reading pleasure.
However, this particular book is not like one of those sagas. This book, I’d decided to purchase and read because my interest had been piqued about it during my university days when I studied English Literature. It is Homer’s Odyssey!
Today, for some reason whilst listening to a wonderful man of God speak on YouTube about the qualities of leadership, this book came to mind. I noted the sky was a beautiful enticing blue and the sun was shining brightly, so I thought: Why not? Why not set up my patio umbrella and sit outside and read? Why not finally tackle this book? Why not indulge in a long, uninterrupted session of pleasurable reading?
And so, dear reader, that is exactly what I sought to do. After settling outside and starting at the very beginning of my book, which has a lengthy introduction (a book in itself!), the sound of a mechanical machine filled my ears.
I ignored it at first, thinking it will stop soon. But this sound went on and on and on and on… I could not work out where it was coming from but thought it was from one of the adjoining properties. However, as the sound continued and continued and continued, I thought this could not be a lawn mower or a strimmer, nobody nearby has a garden that big.
I became distracted from the long intro detailing the writer’s analysis and observations on my big fat book. Perhaps someone has finished mowing their lawn and are now trimming the hedges. But that did not make sense to me because from my recollection there are no such big formal gardens nearby, as far as I’m aware, and as far as I can see from my bedroom windows whenever I look out onto our back garden.
Despite my best intentions, I couldn’t ignore the noise which intruded rudely as I sought to digest the intro writer’s conjectures about the many oral, literary, and production evolutions that led to the eventual compilation of Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey.
Dear reader, I decided to give up and come inside. I came up to my “Ivory Tower” (a room of my own). A room where I can enjoy peace and quiet, escape from the distracting activities and duties of my home, and write, read, study and worship in my own space. A room, a sacred space, which Virginia Woolf and her other female writing contemporaries, desperately desired for themselves.
And so, on this fine sunny Thursday, although I couldn’t sit outside and read to my heart’s content, as originally intended, although my determination to tackle the humungous task of reading Homer’s Odyssey has once again been thwarted, although I’ve been forced to retire inside (rather than enjoy outside the few fine sunny days this country has to offer), I am not going to allow my initial annoyance to ruin and rule my day. I am going to turn what has happened into a writing exercise, into a thanks-fest.
So today, I am thankful to God for this room of my own. I am thankful to God for the ability to read. I am thankful to God for the many writers, authors and translators who have used their gifts and abilities to produce pleasurable works of art, which I can enjoy at my leisure. I am thankful that I do have plenty of leisure time (I am no longer an employee).
I am thankful for my sound state of mind, which enables me to read and write (my mother ended her days as a dementia sufferer). I am thankful to whoever invented computers, so I can write direct into my laptop and have a better chance of keeping up with my fleeting thoughts, since my fingers on the keyboard, move much faster and my transcribed thoughts are more legible than if I were to have frantically scribbled them down with pen, on paper.
I am thankful to you Lord God for the gift of writing, of being able to bring others into my world. I am thankful for the opportunity to share aspects of my heart and soul with those who are interested enough to read my offerings here at Carol’s Quill. Otherwise, I’d have no regular outlet for public creative expression. I’d be dependent upon capricious editors of magazines or other print and online publications.
I am thankful for LIFE itself… for the knowledge that Jesus, the Lord and Saviour of my life, remains enthroned and can never, ever be dethroned. I am thankful that He can therefore take my humble efforts and use them to bring encouragement, motivation, or inspiration (even perhaps, pleasure?), to others.
I am thankful for each precious day I awake, enabling me to enjoy the enormous privilege of entering heaven’s courts and stand upon holy ground… entering to offer my sacrifices of praise and thanksgiving to the awesome Godhead members of the Holy Trinity.
So, thank you dear Father God for blessing me with such riches.
______________
Now, would you believe dear reader I had set out to write a thankful post that differed somewhat to that which has materialised? That is the wonder and adventure of a writing exercise. You never know what will happen, how it will turn out. I do hope you’ll enjoy reading.
What are you thankful about today?
Please share in a comment box below, I’d love to hear from you. Or if you feel inspired, why not write a thanksgiving blog post of your own, and link it to this one?
Lots of love,
Carol
C a r o l ' s P l a c e 