“But this beautiful treasure is contained in us—cracked pots made of earth and clay—so that the transcendent character of this power will be clearly seen as coming from God and not from us.” II Corinthians 4: 7, The Voice.
Our women’s group passed out blessing jars last January. Bits of paper included. I was supposed to list my blessings over the months and fill the jar.
In June, I deposited tags from my grandson’s wedding favors. “Emily and Alexander, June 11, 2016.” Blessings indeed.
There have been others. My birthday celebration. The milestone of a new decade.
My wedding anniversary in February. New milestone, new decade also.
In March, a trek to the land of Mickey Mouse with two grandsons who had never been there before. Had never watched Tinkerbell zip line through the sky. Wonder is best viewed through the eyes of children.
And more. Berry and cherry picking last summer. A family reunion–picnic, baseball, music. A short trip to the beach for my husband and me, just us.
Snippets of life call out to be recorded.
Yet, the jar sat with its naked bits of paper and two wedding favor tags.
The year is slipping away. I want the jar to find a place on the calendar. I want it to have significance.
One son serves in parts unknown, doing a job unknown–to me. Before he leaves, I ask him to write down three things he’s thankful for. Saying them out loud is a Thanksgiving tradition.
Each one of us tells of three things of the heart–or sometimes of humor–for which we are grateful. We feel serious or sad or joyful or amused. But together, we feel gratitude.
A daughter and her family will be absent this year as well. Her father-in-law passed away a few months ago. They will mark their first Thanksgiving without him by joining my son-in-law’s out of town family. That is as it should be.
I ask her to write three things she’s thankful for.
My son-in-law won’t write. He speaks instead. His cracked glass heart pours out more than three points of gratitude for family and love and life.
The written lists of thankfulness abide in the blessings jar. The rest of us will open the jar next Thursday to read them and then speak our own hearts.
Every one of us is a cracked jar. But God chooses us to carry His Word, His message, His love.
We are supposed to leak.
We are clay to leak God’s love so others can see Him. Treasure pouring forth from cracked vessels.
Cracked jars stuffed full of blessings.
Permissions: You are permitted and encouraged to reproduce and distribute this material in any format provided that you do not alter the wording in any way, do not charge a fee beyond the cost of reproduction, and you credit the author.
Disclosure of Material Connection: I have not received any compensation for writing this post. I have no material connection to the entities I have mentioned. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”