until it overflows

You treat me to a feast...
You honor me as your guest,
you fill my cup until it overflows.

-Psalm 23: 5

When I woke up, it was gray and cold outside. The perfect day to roll over and go back to sleep. I tried to locate some sort of excitement for the day, some kind of positive outlook despite the mist that was already dampening my day. It was Thanksgiving, after all. As I lay in bed, willing myself to get up and run, I heard a small voice that reminded me to be thankful for what happened that day, regardless of my expectations. 

As it turned out, I needed that reminder. My run was slow, our big meal happened way behind schedule (and I was getting irritable), a friend backed out of evening plans, and the sun never showed up. In the late afternoon, as dark was beginning to settle in for the night, I sat in my room and lit some candles, and I decided to be thankful. I don’t remember the specifics, but I’m sure the things I gave thanks for were very mundane: my bed, my housemates, a job, unconditional love.

Later that night — after lighting candles, baking apple crisp, putting a log in the fireplace and choosing thankfulness — friends came over for dessert, and brought with them new friends and beer and warmth. I had to keep pulling out more mugs and plates and forks, and with each scoop of apple crisp and each slice of cheesescake I served up, my heart was more full than it was that morning. 

Somehow, that’s how thankfulness works.