Thank you, Lord

I woke up with that heavy kind of gratitude today, the type that makes you just stand by the window and stare at the sky for a minute, whispering, 'thank you.' You’ve been so good to me, God, even in the quiet, messy corners of my life. So I put on my best clothes, the ones that make me feel like I’m going somewhere important, and stepped out the front door. No car keys in my pocket, no engine to start— just me, my two feet, and a pretty long walk ahead. Honestly, the sun is already doing too much, and my shoes are going to need a good wipe down by the time I get there. But as I watch the cars fly past, kicking up dust, I can’t even find it in me to be envious. My legs work, my lungs are full of air, and I'm moving forward. It’s just you and me on this pavement, Lord. A slow, sweaty prelude to Sunday service. I’m arriving a little breathless, maybe a little dusty, but my heart is ready, and I’m just so glad I made the trip.