Giving Thanks

60: (November 2020)

If ever there was a good time to practice gratitude, this is it. There’s a pandemic going on, the economy is in a precarious state, our political system is being threatened by our own president, climate change is upon us, and racial tensions are surfacing to expose long neglected inequities. It’s a lot to deal with. And that’s precisely why it’s the best time to be mindful of giving thanks. Practicing gratitude is a sanity saver because it keeps me balanced; it pulls me to firmer ground, preventing me from slipping into fear of the future or despair of the present.

Each day that my family and friends are healthy is another day to rejoice. Each breath I take — unassisted — is a gift, something so many people around the world who are afflicted with the virus can no longer do. Every phone call, Zoom session, or text I share with my children and step-children is cause for thanks that communication is so easy and readily available to me. Every bite of food I take is a reason to pause for gratitude that I do not know hunger or food scarcity, which many people are suddenly experiencing.

I am so grateful to live in a place where clean drinking water is drawn from my well. Where heat though the winter is assured by the trees that surround me. I have enough clothing in my closet to last a lifetime and a household full of wonderful things. In short, there is nothing material in life that I need that I don’t already have. That’s a daunting realization.

I am keenly aware of how fortunate I am. In giving thanks, there is a reciprocal feeling that arises: how can I share my blessings? How can I give back? I don’t have any answers, but I’m sure the daily act of practicing gratitude brings me closer to finding them.

40: (November 2000)

My children, like most, embrace nature with wholehearted spirit and ease. They seem to be one with the world, not seeing indoor and outdoor boundaries. To them, nature should be permitted to coexist with us on a continuous basis, with rocks, leaves, and sticks constantly making their way into the house.

Ever since the girls could walk, pieces of nature have always been their greatest treasures. Their comfort with the outdoors has allowed me to see how my boundaries between indoors and out have become quite pronounced; I have become increasingly a creature of the indoors, taking for granted, all too often, what is outside my window.

My husband came up with the idea of watching the sunrise. We had never done that before we had children, oddly enough. They are our inspiration. We marched up a local hill through the silent forest at 5 a.m. Once at the top, we stepped onto the open field and settled ourselves on a blanket, wrapping the edges around us to keep out the early morning winds. We looked expectantly at the horizon. It was colored in hues of pale pink and lavender. As we watched the show, we pulled hot chocolate and homemade muffins out of the backpack. Somehow, it all tasted better than usual in the outdoors.

Slowly, slowly, the brilliant orange peeked out from above the hills. The color was so bright, so intense. Gradually, the full circle of the sun emerged, proud and glorious. We laughed and clapped, stunned by the beauty. When the sun had risen higher in the sky, and the birds were singing loudly in the forest, we decided it was time to go home.

I left with the experience of the morning etched into my mind and heart: the beauty before us, the children huddled between their dad and me, and the closeness we all felt as a family. The world is more beautiful with the spirit of children in it, because they help us have the eyes to see what nature offers us, if only we have the energy to get up early enough to witness it!

60-40:

I remember that morning 20 years ago so well. I suppose beautiful memories are gifts to focus on too. Although that marriage fell apart, there were surely many special times.

Practicing gratitude doesn’t make me blind to the bad things happening in the world, nor does it make me pretend that I don’t have painful memories from my past. But I truly believe that working on seeing the good in life — and in people and experiences — is an essential muscle to flex in order to stay grounded.

I see the gray sky out my window as I type this. I see a squirrel searching for acorns and the brown, dry gardens readying themselves for a long winter. A winter that will ultimately bring new life as it ushers in spring. There is so much to be thankful for.