one thousand gifts

 My sister-in-law Christi was the first to read this book in our family, I think. She recommended it to my mom, who gave me a copy of my own this Christmas, and now I am reading One Thousand Gifts, by Ann Voskamp. I wasn't too sure what to expect, other than the fact that so many people I knew were raving about it. So, I opened it up on my 11-hour-long plane ride back from Madrid and began to read. I must admit, the book has been nothing less than life-changing. I'm only halfway through, and already am amazed at how easy it is to relate to, how much I've learned, how vivid her writing is. It's one of those books that's impossible to underline or highlight favorite thoughts or quotes--because literally every sentence is profound enough, important enough, to underline. I could go on giving you one thousand reasons to read it, but instead I'm going to write out a paragraph from the book that I read this morning.

I see what I am. I'm amputated. I have hacked my life up into grace moments and curse moments. The chopping that has cut myself off from the embracing love of a God who "does not enjoy hurting people or causing them sorrow" (Lam. 3:33), but labors to birth grief into greater grace. Isn't this the crux of the gospel? The good news that all those living in the land of shadow of death have been birthed into new life, that the transfiguration of a suffering world has already begun. That suffering nourishes grace, and pain and joy are arteries of the same heart--and mourning and dancing are but movements in His unfinished symphony of beauty. Can I believe the gospel, that God is patiently transfiguring all the notes of my life into the song of His Son?

What in the world, in all this world, is grace?

I can say it certain now: All is grace. I see through the woods of the world: God is always good and I am always loved.

Read it.