Thankful Me: Day 7

I have a secret. It's about the English language. It may make me look nerdy, but I will divulge it to you anyway.

I love words that can play different parts in a sentence. Today, a certain word may play a noun. Tomorrow, that same word, same spelling, same sound, will play a verb. Next week, you may use it as an adjective.

I am thankful for Understanding. Both the noun and the adjective forms.

If you were given a piece of paper, a pen, and five minutes to write down all of the moments you could remember where you were shown understanding, could you do it? Could you write the moments you embodied understanding?

My paper would be full. I'd like to say full of my moments of being an understanding daughter, wife, mother, sister-in-law, friend, instructor, health care provider, mentor....but I struggle daily. Because of the grace shown to me, I am encouraged to use understanding in both the noun and the adjective forms.

In kindergarten, I stole blocks. I also convinced the other girls in my class to steal as well. We were giving them to our sisters, after all. As it always does, the truth comes to light. My parents disciplined me in love and with a rather thick wooden paddle. I also was given a note to hand to my teacher the next day. It said something like this: "Please read this to Anna. She is asking for forgiveness for stealing these blocks. After she apologizes and asks for forgiveness, please rip up this note and throw it in the trash to symbolize that when we ask forgiveness, Jesus remembers it no more". With understanding of right and wrong, my parents disciplined me. My understanding teacher knew this was a life lesson I would never forget; that piece of paper was thrown in the trash....and I could breathe again.

In college, I had to do one class of PE in order to graduate. I chose the archery class, and we were informed that no absences would be tolerated. The night before a class, my sister called to say one of my dear childhood friends had passed away from cancer. I rode the shuttle to the football stadium that morning, arrows in one hand and tissues in the other. My instructor took one look at me and pulled me aside. As I relayed the story to him, his eyes became understanding, and he sent me home. No questions. No class to make up. He understood.

I'm thankful for that paper in my memory that is full.

Full of one-liners and epic paragraphs that portray understanding, autographed by teachers, parents, sisters....



By wisdom a house is built, and through understanding it is established; through knowledge its rooms are filled with rare and beautiful treasures. Proverbs 24:3-4