A lot of people have been tweeting about “1000 Gifts” by Ann Voskamp. I haven’t yet read the book, but wanted to write down some blessings anyway. I think there are about twenty gifts buried within this post. So here goes … some things for which I’m thankful:

My toddler, who has beautiful blue-eyes and hair so blonde that it’s almost white. She carries a special rock in one hand and a toy car in the other. She loves getting into her car-seat because it means we’re going somewhere. She can’t hit a single note and she makes up all the words, yet still she loves to sing. She’s confident. Secure. Carefree. She lays hands on her family members and prays for us daily. Lately, she has been pretending to drive her toy car to work. We ask her where she works. She says, “The moon.”

My eight-month old, who is a giggler. She has a dimple that could melt even the hardest heart and she has the sweetest little laugh in the world. What a precious sound. She has rolls of chubbiness on her thighs. She’s ticklish. She loves to cuddle and, when I’m holding her, she will look up at me every so often, just to smile.

The way my husband quietly serves. All the time. Wherever he is. His family, his friends, his co-workers, patients at the hospital, strangers on the street. Whether it’s changing light bulbs at the church, changing dirty diapers, or helping an old lady climb the stairs at the mall downtown. He never complains. He searches for ways to bless people. Lavishly. In any way he can. He gives. And gives. And gives.

My creaky old house, with it’s dark hardwood floors and thick wood trim around the windows. The chimney chute in the kitchen that has long been covered in drywall, a remnant of a time when ovens were fuelled by wood. The history this house holds, mysteries shrouded by time. The present. Sunlight streaming through the windows. Hallways filled with the pitter-patter of little feet. Laughter echoing through the walls. It’s more than just a creaky old house. It’s home.

The faces of the immigrant children at the park last night. Their eyes shone as we twisted balloons into shapes for them, painted their faces, applied temporary tattoos, and played games together. I now know why it is more blessed to give than to receive.

I could go on. But the girls are awake and a new day beckons. A day filled with other gifts waiting to be unwrapped and exclaimed over and then lovingly held close and cherished.

And you have your own gifts to unwrap. So enjoy. Every incredible, precious moment.