Happy Thanksgiving

Punctuations of Praise

by Tina E. Pinson

A worn and battered, cloth-bound, book lies before me on the shelf

I pull it down, turn the brittle pages carefully, and find the story of myself.

Written declarations of pain and strife, myriads of agony

 and kaleidoscopes of mistakes, glare at me from tear-stained lines

I wonder as I read the story of my life,

Is that all there is?

The thought that my story is rife with sorrow and error, overwhelms me to tears.

But turning a new page, I read on.

As my eyes begin to clear, a miracle unfolds before me.

I begin to see the glory of the tale and find beauty written between the lines.

When my life sentence was too long… You gave me periods of rest.

There were parentheses to hold and comfort me.

Brackets secured me… when my world seemed crazy.

You dotted the i's of my life with your blood and tears.

You put an apostrophe behind my name, to say that I am yours.

You gave my life meaning.

You used hyphens to hold me together when my life was such a mess.

And between the quotes you spoke to me with love and tenderness.

With your life=s blood you red-lined my pain,

You underscored my sorrow with exclamation points.

Gave me dashes for moments to think,

and ellipses upon which to hope and dream.

You alone formed the sentences that tell the story of my life.

You gave it rhyme and meter.

The blessings found on each page I read, show me you've always been there,

And remind me of how you've made my life sweeter.

But even if the lines didn't hold the sway of my life,

Even if you erased all the punctuation,

I know I'd still see you.

You'd be in the swirl of an S, in the loop of an L,

You'd be the ink that writes my life.

Most of all, I'd remember you, because you spanned eternity to cross a t and give me a future.

For these precious blessings, I am ever grateful.

What more can I say?

But thank you, thank you, Jesus.

Period.

End of sentence.

But not the end of the story.