Philippians 1:3

They are everywhere we turn, like fingerprints that cannot be wiped away. You find them in an old song, in the smell of breakfast cooking, in the crackle of a fireplace singing, in a spring flower blooming; or in the passing of an old car that takes you down a sentimental highway.

Who else but our Heavenly Father would include memories in creation? I do believe that memory is a gift of God. It is the sunset at the end of the day; the aroma of a loved cooked meal that lingers for a little while after the dishes are done; and the song that keeps on singing when the singer is gone.

Today is Thanksgiving, and Pat and I are so grateful for the fingerprints that are in our lives. They have been left there by family, friends, and host of acquaintances that we have shared life with along the way. This year has especially been meaningful since we made our last move out of a parsonage.

We look around at what I like to call, “Our little mansion on the hilltop,” and we see many of your fingerprints there. Every conversation happily includes your names. You bring us daily wonder; we wonder how you are, and what you are doing. We miss you in worship, and we often feel a very happy pounding in our heart at the mention of your names.

I often say that when we look back on our lives, we see the fingerprints of God everywhere we have been, and so many times we realize that you were his hands of Love.

We wish for you to be blessed by the touch of God on this Thanksgiving Day. May there be many kind fingerprints on your heart.