A Little Thank You Note

Fingers, thank you for typing, for bending whichever direction I ask you to, following the thoughts of my mind so loyally. Thank you for keeping your tenderness, such that you can touch a sleeping baby without awakening her, and your strength, so that you can carry groceries and move furniture and win thumb wars.

Toes, thank you for keeping me balanced, for squeezing into my shoes without complaining too much, for helping me to jump.

Lungs, thank you for taking air in and for oxygenating my blood like you're supposed to. Thank you for slowing down to help me breath deep, healing breaths at night, and for speeding up to get me plenty of oxygen when I run. Which brings me to my legs...

Oh Legs, thank you. You are my treasured companions. Don't tell the others, but you just might be my favorite. Thank you for carrying me faithfully through so many streets, both foreign and familiar. Thank you for bending to the pulsating rhythm of a song and for staying steady as I stood beside sisters and friends at the altar on their wedding day. Thank you for lifting me up mountains and bending me low so that I can pray to the Maker of them. Thank you for skipping and jumping and jogging and lunging and supporting and stretching and bending ... and for looking pretty fierce in a pair of heels. I hope you can sense how much I love you, because I really do.

Ears, thank you for hearing...for catching the vibrations and transmitting them to my brain. Thank you for linking me to babies laughing and wind rustling and ocean waves pounding and thunder clapping and rain dancing and the cello mourning and the cricket singing and the sounds of my favorite voices....

Lips, thank you. Thank you for speaking and kissing and praying. Thank you.

Tongue, thank you. Thank you for all the tantalizing tastes you treat me to. And I suppose I must include you in the kissing gratitude as well....

Eyes, thank you. Thank you for opening each morning to another day, and for the chance to see the golden hour that happens every evening before nightfall, and the vivid violet of hydrangea, a color that could make me cry. Thank you for seeing the spirit in another's eyes and for capturing the way trees whisper. Thank you for opening to my favorite faces, faces that feel like home. And thank you for filling with tears when my soul needs to spill out a bit, in either sorrow or joy.

Heart, thank you. Thank you for your steady beat; you are perhaps one of my most loyal companions. Thank you for carrying on even when I need to rest, and for cooperating when I need to run, for pounding so hard I can feel you in my chest. And thank you ... for squeezing blood all through me, blood that keeps me warm and nourished and alive.

Brain, thank you. You do more than I could ever know or understand. You give me dreams and words and emotions; you help me solve problems and keep all my systems at the ready. You organize and sort and take in, even when I tire. And you hold my life, every smell and sound and sight, so tightly and carefully and tenderly.

Oh, I have so much more gratitude to share. But it is late. And I must give you all rest.

I'll end with this:

Father, thank you for designing me and my fellow brothers and sisters around the world entire. We really are fearfully and wonderfully made. Forgive me when my heart gets mean or critical, and I insult the goodness of Your work in myself or another. I could thank you every day all my life, and it still wouldn't be enough.