Summer.
For us kids, it’s equivalent
to sleep, food, and electronics. To parents, the word acquires a whole new
meaning for their teenagers. “Summer” is supposed to represent cramming for the
PPSAT months ahead, spending traumatic hours at the steering wheel, and scrutinizing
books like “How to Study Like a Smart Student”. At least for my parents. Maybe
it’s an Asian thing? Anyway.
For me, summer compared to
the average school year is almost like total, absolute freedom versus a
concentration camp. Slightly exaggerated, okay, but the free time allowance is
basically all of 3 months or otherwise 92 days, 2,208 hours, 132,480 minutes, or
7,948,800 seconds. And what do you do? What do you do when someone hands you almost
all 8 million seconds?
Like beforehand, I drafted
this entire list. This summer, I want to do this. And this. And this. And when
summer actually plops its luggage down before my front door, I sprawl on the
couch and play Candy Crush Saga. Hey, it’s finger exercise and hand-eye
coordination at the same time. Don’t judge.
But in all seriousness, what
is this? How do I actually dare myself to live and come breathe again and truly
savor life? How do I actually begin to see each second’s potential?
So I came up with three ways
of living this summer and this life we have on earth to the fullest. Using each
second for the utmost. The first point. Deep breath. Here we go.
1. Eucharisteo. Greek. To be
thankful. To feel thankful. To give thanks.
Not only for the gigantic,
undeserved blessings like Jesus, church, family, food, health. But for the miniscule
details that so often become overlooked. Finding a bird’s feather lining in the
yard. The slip of hot tea down a sore throat. Complements. Achy muscles. The
sunlight’s energy visibly bouncing off the leaves. Dry grass crunching under my
yard shoes. It’s the little things that matter. The 1000 things.
After all, practicing eucharisteo for the little
things enables us to give thanks for the big things.
Recently I picked up the
book 1000 Gifts by Ann Voskamp. Pretty
incredible. Not the easiest read, but it’s beautiful. Ann writes about how eucharisteo
can cause appreciation in each moment, allowing us to see even the tiniest
blessings. And it truly opened my eyes to the hidden God-given gifts floating
through time and space, encompassing each blessing-wreathed moment in time.
After actively searching for His blessings in
disguise, our eyes can become trained to seek His goodness.
I just started my 1000 list.
Slowly commemorating the God-gifts from each day, until I have a thousand all
lined up down the page. Every day I take two minutes to jot down a couple
gifts. And they’re simple things really. Tylenol. Laughter. Sunshine. Feeling
the pages flip through your fingers. Simple, simple pleasures. But all of a
sudden, they just pop out at you in random corners through the everyday
dullness, and each moment truly becomes alive.
When you finally perceive His goodness and His beauty
and His gifts in each brief second, then are you truly alive.
Too often we stumble through
this life as perpetual corpses, dead to God’s gifts and His goodness and His
beauty.
Thanksgiving allows us to truly live, to see God in
each second. In this summer. In this year. In this life.
So I encourage you to start
a list. Start counting the little things. It will make a difference.
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