A Blessed Thanksgiving

I always hesitate to say "Happy Thanksgiving!" I know that happiness is temporary while joy is permanent. I guess I could say "Joyful Thanksgiving!" but I think people would wonder if I am losing it. I wonder that myself many days without additional opinions to confirm it!

My cup truly does overflow this Thanksgiving. My son is home for the day, my daughters, husbands and grandchildren will be here this evening, my home is warm, my health is great. But there is one precious blessing that guides me EVERY day: the One who went from God to Father to Daddy on one August afternoon in 2005 has never left my side for a second. He guides, directs, encourages, and blesses me on this journey as a widow.

I listened to a sermon a few months ago in which the minister suggested that each of us write a prayer that we offer to the Lord each and every morning. Not words that we say as a ritual but rather an offering to our Father. May I share mine with you this Thanksgiving:

I arise today, Father, because You have allowed it and caused it to be so.

I want my life to be centered on the things that matter: that You be glorified, that I be worthy of Your calling, that the desire of my heart is to be filled and fulfilled by You, that the power within me comes from You and You alone. I do not want anyone to see Nancy Hughes...I want them to see Jesus and Him alone. Because You have allowed me to arise today, Father, and caused it to be so. Amen.

Because of Christ, I am blessed. May each of you have a joyful, blessed Thanksgiving.

Not Again!

What a strange feeling…almost 4 years to the day and it happened again! No electricity and I am alone. No husband to get a fire going in the fireplace. No voice to tease “It’s gonna come back on in a little bit, Nance. Aren’t you always telling me that candles are romantic?”


Some things haven’t changed: the fireplace still refuses to allow its contents to be lit to warm the living room which in turn leaves only two barely-burning candles that have just enough of a wick to chase the shadows back into their corners.


But tonight I notice something different – subtle, yes, but most definitely a change: there is a peace deep inside of me that wasn’t there four years ago. I am still grieving over my loss and missing my husband as much as before. But the fear of the future and what it might hold has been replaced with a conviction that absolutely nothing happens to us that does not first pass through our Father’s Hands.


“My hope is built on nothing less…”