Our week of thanks.

Every other year we head out of town for Thanksgiving with Popeye's siblings and folks.

Twenty-six people and counting.  Twenty-six people and counting.

It is crazy.

And fun.

Filled with so much laughter and chaos and food.

This year we headed up north to Angels Camp.

That's Gold Country, for those of you familiar with this great state.

We stayed in a rambling farm house that took 150 years to build and it shows.

And it was perfect.

We played games and watched kids race around the back yard and had dance parties and hiked and walked through the biggest trees in the world and drank coffee on the couch in the kitchen and stayed up too late and shared what we were thankful for.

And I wept.

Because I have so gosh darn much to be thankful for this year.

For even when it doesn't make sense.

And our plans don't go as we would like them to.

And things seem like they are tougher than they should be.

And your losses seem to stack higher than your wins.

HE is still Lord.

HE is still sovereign.

HE is still King of kings and Lord of lords.

HE is merciful and gracious and loving and good.

And my cup overfloweth.

My cup overfloweth again and again.