The End of the Tunnel and Thanksgiving


JpegLight a candle.  Gather some leaves.  Scatter a few mini pumpkins.  Buy a journal.  Write.  Sip a cup of coffee and write down a few words, a few lines of what you are thankful for.

This was difficult for me last year.  I wrote through gritted teeth.  I have some real close friends and members of my community in the throws of where we were last year.  I try to put my arm around them and lead them through.  But sometimes its better if I stand on the lighted side of the tunnel and yell, “Come on!  It’s beautiful over here!”  We are emerging from our tunnel.

Thanksgiving has never been my favorite holiday.  “Because the white people tricked the Natives?” my daughter’s boyfriends asks.  “No!  Well, yes.  But, no.  When you are vegetarian no one invites you over!”

So was our life.  We had a humble Thanksgiving with our three children starting with slightly burnt cinnamon rolls (every year, y’all) and coffee watching the parade waving wildly at our favorite floats and Santa.  We’d write things we were thankful for on little leaf shaped pieces of paper.  We’d eat a nice meal then go to the movies.  They grew up and I share them with their partners’ families now too.  Those sweet memories filed.

As we find new ways to celebrate, remembering to be grateful (even through gritted teeth, Friends) is really what this month teaches us.  We can look up and see many great things and the path moving ahead if we lift our faces to the sun.

Last year I was thankful our friend took us in.  This year I am thankful we are house hunting.  I am thankful that Doug’s friend gave him a job.  I am thankful that we will get to work together again.  I was thankful for my old truck.  I am thankful for my new little Fiat to get me to my kids.  I am thankful for my beautiful shop.  I am thankful for my students.  I am thankful for readers of my blog.  I am thankful that I got to keep my cats.  I am thankful that Shyanne is working with me.  I am thankful that all three of my kids have found love.  That Doug and I are in love.  That Maryjane is my granddaughter and for the time I get with that little spitfire.  She keeps us laughing.  And the more I write, the more words keep flowing…grandparents, warm days, birds, coffee!

The other side of the tunnel looks fine.  “Keep walking!” I yell to my friends.  It’s going to be alright.  I am thankful.

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