“Look, Dad!  It’s a goose festival!”

I enjoy driving with my little girl, Ellie.  She’s so beautifully aware of God’s world in a way that I so often miss in my hurry.  I’d never heard of a “goose festival” before, but I certainly wanted to see what one looked like after her chirpy backseat comment.  And sure enough, right through my passenger-side window, huddled happily together in a freshly-harvested corn field off Roosevelt Road, thousands of geese partied among what must have been a treasure trove of golden corn kernels conveniently scattered by the recent pass of the farmer’s jumbo-size harvester.  A festival indeed.

In this week of Thanksgiving, I’m considering not only how our Father in heaven feeds the sparrow but how he feeds the goose, too — and how His great rescue story continues to be told around the world, for me, Ellie and all of us.

I give thanks to a Father who loved me so much (found me so valuable!) that He would sacrifice his Son to die for me.

I give thanks for a chance to not burn my turkey on the grill and feed my amazing family at my own home for the very first time on Thursday.

I give thanks for an earthly father who’s prepared an old-school slide show of our family’s days gone by–and that my daughters will have a chance to see our story connecting with God’s great Story–His unchanging, unwavering, miraculous faithfulness to unite a unique family brought together from China, Lithuania, Germany and Cambodia to Chicago, Illinois,

For all these good things and so many more (“gooses” included…), I give thanks.

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