If you refuse to accept a gift you have nothing for which to be grateful.

How can any of us adequately say thanks for all that we’ve been given? We’d have to begin with the mother-of-all-thank-yous to God that we are here at all, that here is here, that creation was ever called into being.

It happened that as he made his way toward Jerusalem, he crossed over the border between Samaria and Galilee. As he entered a village, 10 men, all lepers, met him. They kept their distance but raised their voices, calling out, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!”

On Monday nights, I go with my fellow parishioner Mary Anne to visit migrant camps in our county and bring them things they need. This year there were almost no women and children in the camps—the men came alone for fear of being separated from them.

We’re always aware of our pain; we’re not always aware of our healing. A child will run to a parent and point to the “boo boo” where she scraped her knee but soon be off to play, the pain forgotten.

My Aunt Lee, who lived overseas for 25 years, sent all of her nieces and nephews the most marvelous Christmas presents each year—dolls from Japan, Germany, and the Azore Islands, Aran sweaters from Ireland, silver from England, jewelry from France, leather from Morocco.

The portion at the restaurant was too large, even for me, so I asked for the proverbial “doggie” bag. Walking to the car with that uncomfortable feeling that I had eaten too much, I was stopped by a man sitting on the steps of a building.

We turn to our ever-faithful God to pray for forgiveness.

In all created things discern the providence and wisdom of God, and in all things give Him thanks.