A grateful heart is a blessing for which to be grateful
I had to run out for a few things I forgot yesterday, and my husband will stop on his way home to pick up what I forgot today…I made a list, but I forgot to look at it. Aging ADD kid here…I became so excited seeing so many people in the usually unpopulated store that I forgot what I was doing there. I was grateful to see people celebrating Thanksgiving, with money to spend in a well-stocked store.
I bought some nuts, mixed nuts in the shells. My child-brain thrilled to see that “they still make those.” My husband will delight in cracking them for me. I am so grateful they still make mixed nuts in the shells and especially to have a wonderful husband who delights in cracking them for me.
I am the younger member of a set my droll sister refers to as “Mother’s two known children.” She got all the fox DNA, I got the prude. We exchange unique ghost stories, unique because all the ghosts are our relatives. Grandma was committed for insanity, Mother was crackers, we’re a little whacked, and our kids are all suspiciously normal. We are grateful for the progressive dilution of ghost-vectored insanity.
We’ve lived in different places and have different regional habits of diction, but we have the same laugh. It’s the laugh of shipwreck survivors who suddenly hit landfall at dawn and find fresh water, delicious food, beautiful, clean, dry clothes, and friendly natives. We’re grateful we survived childhood, much less that we’ve lived to harvest all the blessings we’ve enjoyed this far.
My new kitchen stool with its seat and back arrived today. I ambushed the UPS man. I opened the door and stood outside so he could set the heavy carton inside the door. My resourceful and glamorous sister would have had him bring it into her kitchen and assemble it for her. I am grateful once again for my husband who will delight in the light assembly of this welcome gadget. I will be able to sit down with a backrest while waiting for something to come to a boil so I can turn down the heat. The alternatives have been standing and hurting, or walking off and forgetting all about what was on the stove. I am grateful for the new stool and for my husband’s generosity.
When I came home from the store I was inspired to begin knitting a dishcloth in “Thanksgiving colors.” I’ll do well to finish it for Thanksgiving: perhaps 2009. I am grateful for a festive spirit. I haven’t always had one.
A grateful heart is indeed a blessing worthy of thanks and praise. “Behold, what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us…” (1 John 3:1)