Full of Thanks (and turkey)

thankful |ˈTHaNGkfəl|

adjective

pleased and relieved: [ with clause ] : they were thankful that the war was finally over | [ with infinitive ] : I was very thankful to be alive.

• expressing gratitude and relief: an earnest and thankful prayer.

This day is nearly done.  My contribution to today’s feast, homemade crescent rolls and an artery-clogging bacon and broccoli salad, were easily prepared.  Our oldest, Trevor, is home for the long weekend and we have already enjoyed rare extended fellowship around our farmhouse table.  Someone else got to clean house for the gathering; I had only to show up bearing my edible gifts.  I loved today.  It was restful and full of sweet tradition.  It was my favorite sort of day. 

The only aching sigh of my heart was the two empty places at the table where Ryan and Cody should have been.  Letting go of adult children is both wonderful and terrible.  My wise mother always claimed that each stage of parenting is fun and unique.  She was right, of course.  I love the freedom of my rapidly emptying nest, but the echo of my own voice in a large and still house is a diligent reminder that my children are infrequent visitors in their own home.  I can only gently remind them that their home is always ready to receive them for however long or short they can visit.

I thought about that yesterday as my eyes swept my classroom and took in the chaos left in the wake of The Day Before a Holiday.  A three-day school week means that I could never expect to get in a full week of the reading basal.  I used the time (wisely, I feel), to go back and reinforce concepts that were a bit hurried before.  We played contraction bingo and practiced identifying plural nouns.  I am feeling better about their mastery of those important concepts.  Filling their little minds with all the required knowledge is such a hurried, sloppy affair sometimes.  If I could single handedly revolutionize the educational field, I would slow down instruction to a more rational pace.  But I digress….

I set about scraping paint off the table from our clay pot turkeys and picking orphaned crayons off the littered floor.  As school days go, it had been a little nutso.  I had forgotten that our PE time had been adjusted to be at the very end of the day, just before the bell rang.  While they ran their little hearts out in the gym, I frantically tried to organize their Thanksgiving crafts and graded papers so that they could just grab coats and backpacks and rush out the door to a four-day weekend.

In spite of the sudden blood pressure spike, I felt a hint of smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.  I was a little giddy as I thought about the coming break. Truthfully, I have not felt this way in three years.  As I searched the closet for plastic shopping bags to send paper chains home in, I realized that I had turned a momentous corner in my career and life.  It hit me like the crest of an emotional wave.  It was back.  My balance was returning and it felt incredible good.

When my charges were gone and the room suddenly quiet, I set about packing up to leave.  There was a time when I would have backed a United Van Lines moving truck to the door in order to transport half my classroom to my house so that I could keep working and get stuff done from the comfort of home.  Yesterday I had surprisingly little to take with me.  Oh, I’ve got projects, all right.  But I am learning to prioritize and not set the bar impossibly high (a major shortcoming).  I am learning to ask the imperative question, “What needs to be done TODAY?” and then leave the rest for another time.  Maybe you can teach an old dog new tricks after all…

I am even surprisingly excited to decorate the house for Christmas on the day after Thanksgiving – a strict tradition in the Dahl house.  Last year I was downright grumpy about it.  My children were alarmed.  They kept trying to find “the thing” that would ignite my Christmas spirit, which is normally legendary.  I felt nothing but drudgery and duty as I wiped dust off plastic tubs and haphazardly tossed ornaments onto trees.  “Who cares about any of this?”  I kept thinking moodily. I was still trying to figure out how to be a teacher, I was in the middle of a graduate-level online course, and I had to somehow muddle through the holidays.  Last Christmas was horrible and I hated feeling so unlike myself.  My poor Hannah must have pondered how to strike out on her own at the tender age of fourteen. 

But this year feels completely different.  I am more ME.  Even this stupid blog is prime example.  I was amazed to realize a few days ago that last year at this time, I had twice as many posts as I do this year.  It averaged out to something like two a week.  OK, where did I eek out that kind of time on top of all else?   I have no clue.  I have determined that I will write when time and topic allow it.  I will not stress about it in between. 

So on this day of thankfulness, I am thankful for all of the clichéd things, like the rest of America, but I have a few items on my list that are unique to me.  If you have any interest in my list, read on…

I am thankful for Sam’s Club French Roast coffee beans.

I am thankful for milk chocolate and caramel – preferably together. These go great with the aforementioned French Roast coffee.

I am thankful for stretch jeans, which dovetails with the previous items.

I am thankful that my sons, Ryan and Cody, are being loved, fed, and nurtured in other homes tonight.

I am thankful that I am excited about Christmas again.

I am thankful for my church family that welcomes other cultures and is a safe haven for the saint and the sinner alike.

I am exceedingly grateful for friends that deepen my joy and make me laugh.

I am thankful for the unspeakable privilege of bringing four children into this world and for watching them write their own stories.  My heart beats with every breath they take. 

I am thankful for the man that shares my life and thinks I hung the moon. 

I am thankful that the second half of my life looks as interesting as the first half was.

I am thankful that I am gainfully employed.

I am thankful for sunsets so breathtaking I am forced to stop and stare.

I am thankful for lip gloss.

I am thankful for parents and aunts and uncles and cousins.

I am thankful for my siblings – the only other people on the face of the earth who get my jokes about our growing up years.

I am thankful for the teachers in my life who took an interest in me and made me feel intelligent, capable, and funny.  I hope I successfully pay that forward.

I am thankful for irises in my flowerbeds that make a splashy showing every summer.

I am thankful that when I shared the story of the very first Thanksgiving with my first graders, they had zero concept of that brand of hardship.  Even the poorest among them has food and shelter enough to grow and thrive.

I am thankful for the treadmill awaiting me that will help me atone for the overindulgences of today's dinner.  Holy cow, I am still stuffed!

I think I am most thankful for perspective enough to understand that I have it pretty darn good.  See, here’s the thing about gratitude and thankfulness.  If you hold your list of Things I Am Thankful For up against someone else’s list… a friend, a neighbor, a coworker, or a relative… then you don’t get it yet.  You are comparing your life with a life that will never be yours.  If you think owning something you don’t have, or meeting someone you don’t know, or becoming something you’re not is your path to happiness, then you need to hear this from me… you will never be happy, for true happiness is never circumstance driven.  Joy is the legitimate child of Contentment.  Contentment is the factory where Joy and Happiness are manufactured.  And here is the important part of this little sermon… contentment is a CHOICE. 

People are unnecessarily unhappy.  It drives bad decision-making, ends good relationships, and slides into despondency.  It is a preventable ailment.

So today, I do not place conditions on my gratitude.  I am thankful.  There is nothing more to add.  I am blessed, yes.  Unbelievably and immeasurably blessed.  But if it were all stripped away, I hope I would say the same.  For there will always be irises in the spring and sunsets that breathe the promise of another day. 

This is my “earnest and thankful prayer.” 

I am content...