Pink Sink and Worn Brass

 

“Next week, we’ll go shopping for a white sink and new taps.” Those words my husband, Bob, spoke were music to my ears and I anxiously waited for next week to arrive. Although the main bathroom in our new-to-us but-forty year-old home was not slated for major renovations, Bob and I had decided a little cosmetic touch-up was necessary for the room to feel clean.

The walls and cupboards looked fresh now that several coats of various shades of grey paint had been added, the large, formerly brown, wood-framed mirror looked dramatic in glossy black. New light fixtures had been installed, leaving only the chipped sink and very worn brass taps still in need of attention.

I’m sure they had been lovely in the eighties, but decades later, lovely was not the word I would use to describe them.

And so I waited. Unfortunately, next week never came. At least, our shopping trip didn’t happen because there was always something more pressing that needed to be done first.

A few weeks have now passed and my angst has not yet subsided. My lips have been sealed most of this time, but unfortunately they were not under control last Thursday when I asked to go shopping for the new and last thing to be done for now in the bathroom.

Disappointment surfaced as other projects again took precedence. My joy for the day was nearly destroyed along with my hopes for a new sink.

To be fair, there are numerous projects to be done on this home we purchased last fall. Eight weeks of ripping walls and ceilings down, pulling up purple ceramic tile and dusty pink rugs, yanking cupboards off the walls and re-installing them in the storage area below, adjusting door openings, and rearranging closets. And we are only on phase one … of twelve.

As I shared my sob story about the pink sink with a friend on the phone last Friday, she said, “Oh, that’s gross, pink chipped sink and worn brass.’’ She chuckled. “But the first thing – be thankful.”

I felt the impact of her words right in the gut. After all, I pride myself on having a grateful heart; I even teach about its impact on my life. And hadn’t I spent three years writing at least three or four things that I’m grateful for every day in a beautiful journal totalling over thirty-six hundred ‘thanksgivings’ in my own handwriting?

Added to that I started a Facebook page and gathered others who also committed to jotting down their daily ‘sacrifices of praise’.

Collectively in 2015, we reached ten thousand reasons to be thankful and I sent a note off to Matt Redman to let him know that his song, “Ten Thousand Reasons,” had inspired me to create this FB space.

Did I somehow think I had arrived at Thanksgiving Station and no longer needed to practice this spiritual discipline?

Francis Schaeffer once said, “The beginning of man’s rebellion against God was, and is, the lack of a thankful heart”.

I’d never thought of the seriousness of thanklessness in such a way.

God’s mercies are new every morning and I have enjoyed at least twenty-five thousand of them. In the same way that God allowed the Israelites to collect only enough manna for one day, my heart and voice must rise with daily praise. Yesterdays ‘thank you’ is old.

During a recent message, our pastor declared, “Thankfulness is not just a discipline, it is an act of faith”.

As leaders, may we practice this discipline of always thanking God for His goodness, for truly it is His will for us and reminds us that we need to live a life of dependence on Him. And may our thankful hearts inspire those who follow after us to do the same.

I’m heading into the bathroom now ready to thank God for the plentiful supply of water flowing from worn brass into my lovely pink chipped sink.

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