“Thank you. Thank you,” she’d say,
offering her soft spoken hymn of praise to you
with each step she took.
Ninety seven, clutching walker,
while I held onto her,
she walked in thankful wonder
like a toddler taking first steps with glee.
Each step a gift, counted.
Walker steadied and grounded her body in motion
while her thanksgiving steadied and grounded her spirit
in the here and now flow of grace.
I lost count of how many of these short walks we took
that last sweet year of her life,
saying our thank yous to you out loud
down the hall and back.
But they were many and enough to echo in my cells
and to raise up in me from time to time
this simple hymn of praise.
“Thank you. Thank you.”
I find myself whispering to you
over and over throughout the day,
noticing how my eyes open to the outpouring
of grace and blessing in every moment,
how I feel myself carried in the current of your joy,
how I am able to use this walker of gratitude
to steady and ground heart and mind, body and soul
in your glorious presence with us here and now.
Thank you. Thank you.
I will praise God’s name in song and
glorify him with thanksgiving.
From Heaven at my Door by Juanita Ryan