The mornings are quiet. I wake before six a.m., and justify getting up, because after all, it is 8:30 on the east coast, and elsewhere, it is even 3:00 p.m, and even somewhere in the world it is 8:00 p.m.!~~there's never a good excuse for not getting out of bed. I pull on a jacket, grab the computer, scriptures, glasses, and walk the short distance to the main house.
So much space all to myself! The mystery is how long will it be mine. I sit in the place of last night's gathering, two couches, two benches so large, 21 one of us fit.
The table is scattered with the pens and pencils from last night's game that required us to think, guess, and laugh. All around are remnants of last night, of the people I love.
The highchair in the corner, the shoes and wadded socks, the game pieces of paper folded to hide the children's characters chosen and written on by the personalities present: Nemo, Cruella Deville, Donald Duck,...
Ah here comes the first sounds of life at 6:45 a.m. It is the five year old and the one year old from the midwest; it is 9:00 o'clock their time. They've given their parents a slight reprieve by "sleeping in."
Soon, my quiet world is playing chase, and bending over to kiss the head who cannot yet appreciate my gesture of love. Soon, the gathering area will populate with the young and the old, the hungry, the ready-to-start the day with yet another. Soon, the potatoes will be boiling, the pecans will top the yams, the turkey will make its traditional appearance--the only ungrateful participant of the day.
Thanks to a California heat wave, for the first time in my life, we will be eating Thanksgiving dinner on the expansive table outside. Though our circumstances are vastly different, to be eating outside, as we've been taught through paintings and story, will be reminiscent of that first gathering of gratitude between pilgrims and the native Americans who treated them so well. This is what this day boils down to: treating one another well~and all the gratitude surrounding our ability to do so.
We will also patiently wait for hopeful news amidst the celebration. Last night, my son-in-law received a call from his father, who broke the sad news of his heart attack the day before Thanksgiving. He was awaiting surgery to determine stints or bypass surgery. This news changed the tone of the playful evening. The fragility of life cracked the glass. We paused, we prayed for his recovery.
It is a reminder we will not always be.
It is a reminder to treat one another well, to treat ourselves well, and to look beyond this day of Thanksgiving to always have gratitude in our hearts.
So much space all to myself! The mystery is how long will it be mine. I sit in the place of last night's gathering, two couches, two benches so large, 21 one of us fit.
The table is scattered with the pens and pencils from last night's game that required us to think, guess, and laugh. All around are remnants of last night, of the people I love.
The highchair in the corner, the shoes and wadded socks, the game pieces of paper folded to hide the children's characters chosen and written on by the personalities present: Nemo, Cruella Deville, Donald Duck,...
Ah here comes the first sounds of life at 6:45 a.m. It is the five year old and the one year old from the midwest; it is 9:00 o'clock their time. They've given their parents a slight reprieve by "sleeping in."
Soon, my quiet world is playing chase, and bending over to kiss the head who cannot yet appreciate my gesture of love. Soon, the gathering area will populate with the young and the old, the hungry, the ready-to-start the day with yet another. Soon, the potatoes will be boiling, the pecans will top the yams, the turkey will make its traditional appearance--the only ungrateful participant of the day.
Thanks to a California heat wave, for the first time in my life, we will be eating Thanksgiving dinner on the expansive table outside. Though our circumstances are vastly different, to be eating outside, as we've been taught through paintings and story, will be reminiscent of that first gathering of gratitude between pilgrims and the native Americans who treated them so well. This is what this day boils down to: treating one another well~and all the gratitude surrounding our ability to do so.
It is a reminder we will not always be.
It is a reminder to treat one another well, to treat ourselves well, and to look beyond this day of Thanksgiving to always have gratitude in our hearts.
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