Being Shushed: Psalm 103

Bless the Lord, O my soul,

And all that is within me, bless His holy name.

Bless the Lord, O my soul,

And forget none of His benefits;

I heard the hammering and sawing before I saw the carpenters.  It is the rhythmical noise of things being made.  Built.  Like a song . . . the percussion of hammer and spinning blade on wood . . . the melody of measurements being communicated from the top of the ladder down to the man at the saw . . . the harmony of intermittent laughter as craftsmen enjoy their work.  People will live in this house one day.  Perhaps babies will be born.  Children might climb trees in the wooded back yard.  Maybe an aging couple will sit on the deck and look toward my East Tennessee ridges and find peace, solace, inspiration, rest.  Building is in the heart and soul of our family.  I love to walk down to the job site and just listen.  And watch.

Who pardons all your iniquities,

Who heals all your diseases;

Who redeems your life from the pit,

Who crowns you with lovingkindness and compassion;

Who satisfies your years with good things,

So that your youth is renewed like the eagle.

The hands of carpenters always fascinate me.  Rough, strong hands.  Cracked and dry from overexposure to the weather.  Often with fresh cuts next to faded, old scars.  They tell a story of hard work, dreams, artistry and skill earned through diligence and patience.  Hands that serve by giving things . . . things that become hidden from view or overlooked through familiarity or simply used without thought of the hands that made them. 

The Lord performs righteous deeds

And judgments for all who are oppressed.

He made known His ways to Moses,

His acts to the sons of Israel.

The Lord is compassionate and gracious,

Slow to anger and abounding in lovingkindness.

He will not always strive with us,

Nor will He keep His anger forever.

He has not dealt with us according to our sins,

Nor rewarded us according to our iniquities.

For as high as the heavens are above the earth,

 So great is His lovingkindness toward those who fear Him.

As far as the east is from the west,

So far has He removed our transgressions from us.

It is deeply satisfying to live by the work of your own hands.  To dream and to create.  And at the end of the day, when everything has been cleaned up and put away, to see the progress that was made.   As I contemplate this holiday season that begins with the bounty and the warmth of Thanksgiving, it isn’t benefits or blessings that keep coming to my mind.  It is hands.  Father’s Hands.

Just as a father has compassion on his children,

So the Lord has compassion on those who fear Him.

For He Himself knows our frame;

He is mindful that we are but dust.
As for man, his days are like grass;

As a flower of the field, so he flourishes.

When the wind has passed over it, it is no more,

And its place acknowledges it no longer.

But the lovingkindness of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear Him,

And His righteousness to children's children,

To those who keep His covenant

And remember His precepts to do them.

There are so many good things in my life that I cannot even begin to count them. 

But in all of the blessings . . .

And all the sweetness . . .

And even in the difficulties . . .

And especially in the sorrows . . .

It has been the Giver, not the gifts, that causes my heart to rejoice in grateful praise.

To walk hand-in-hand with the Creator of the universe . . .

And watch His handiwork . . .

And see His dreams being built . . .

And dream along with Him . . .

That is what I am thankful for this Thanksgiving.

To live in and with and by the Work of His Hands is a great and glorious blessing.

But to see and feel my tiny hand engulfed in His . . .

to simply be His . . .

that is the greatest blessing of all.

The Lord has established His throne in the heavens,

And His sovereignty rules over all.

Bless the Lord, you His angels,

Mighty in strength, who perform His word,

Obeying the voice of His word!

Bless the Lord, all you His hosts,

You who serve Him, doing His will.

Bless the Lord, all you works of His,

In all places of His dominion;

Bless the Lord,

O my soul!

May your Thanksgiving be filled with Him.

Psalms 46:10-11
Lesa K. Reid