I love the lovely. As a once upon a time wedding planner and flower shop proprietor, “whatsoever things are lovely” (Philippians 4:8) speaks to my soul. So naturally, the esthetics during this time of year send my creative juices into overdrive. Come the first of November, it’s game on in the decorating department. Despite budget, time, and circumstance, this has always been the case.

I recall that summer in New Mexico. While my husband learned to fly fighter jets, I gained ten pounds learning to make the perfect cheesecake. To avoid the scorching southwestern heat, I spent my days in an air-conditioned hotel room cross-stitching Christmas ornaments and eating my failures. The cheesecake project was a bust, but my ornaments belonged on the cover of Southern Living. (It was the 80’s.) They still hang on our tree.

And there was that time my Mississippi garden club created a veritable harvest home masterpiece for a televised fundraiser. Cornstalks, pumpkins, gourds, red-berried sumac, everything worthy from the fields and forests of the Magnolia State came together in a glorious display of autumn splendor.

But this year, I believe I have created my most beautiful decoration yet.

The last three years have been challenging ones for me personally. Not overwhelming, but oftentimes frustrating and difficult, mostly due to two foot and ankle surgeries that left me benched with pain and immobility for much longer than I wished.

Yesterday, as I climbed stairs and cleaned house in preparation for the holidays, I began to ponder God’s provisions in light of my limitations over the last few years.

The execution of a centerpiece for this year’s Thanksgiving decor became an act of worship as I moved about the house gathering what truly represented God’s bounty and blessings during this last season of my life.

This Thanksgiving, our cornucopia will not hold the typical harvest plunder of fruits and vines. The decoration on our dining room sideboard this year, will tell a more personal story.

Spilling from my “horn of plenty” will be:

~My Bible, with passages that came alive in a thousand new ways as I sought God’s help and understanding.

~An ankle brace. A knee brace. Turmeric— a kinder, gentler representation of the modern meds for which I was grateful. A TENS unit.

~A calendar to represent the countless days of commitment from a physical therapist turned dear friend whose expertise and love for Jesus helped me heal both body and soul.

~A toothbrush to celebrate the first time I could actually stand at the sink and brush my teeth.

~A watch, to represent time spent in a way I’d never have chosen, yet exactly how it was meant to be spent.

~Pages from a book I would have never finished had God not set apart this time and given me  the purposeful words to fill it.

~A ridiculous platform tennis shoe—perfect to lessen the limp created by my casts.

~Photographs of family, our children, and grandchildren whose encouragement to run my race with optimism kept me going.

~A prayer journal. Not mine, but one to represent the faithful prayers of dear friends.

~The charger to my portable electric scooter dropped from heaven straight into my lap during a quick trip to a thrift shop.

~Grill tongs for all the delicious meals my husband prepared and brought to me with love and enthusiasm. They fed my spirit.

What a time I had gathering it all. I will no doubt continue to add to these touchstones of God’s provisions as long as my cornucopia is displayed.

In Isaiah 65:4 our Heavenly Father tells us:

“Before they call, I will answer; while they are still speaking, I will hear.”

Such a beautiful reminder of God’s complete and intimate knowledge of His children. From His vast storehouse of riches, He will meet our needs.

During our Thanksgiving meal, my decoration may garner some strange looks. But I will use it as an opportunity to invite those around our table to add their own evidence of God’s provision during the last year. I pray it will serve as a grateful reminder of the purpose for the day.

But before then, I will ask you here.

What’s in your cornucopia?