Vision.

I’ve been listening to the wheels of imagination turning recently with Little Drummer Boy and Bug. As they play together in those sometimes rare moments of being best friends, I’m always amazed by the random adventures of Thomas the Tank Engine or Lightning McQueen or whatever toy has the fortune of being involved. At our house, it’s a common occurrence for dinosaurs, asteroids, firemen and race cars to occupy the same world view. As I listen to them drawing pictures and the running commentary that accompanies the marks on the page, the same wonder ensues. Railway tunnels, fire-breathing dragons and rainbows peacefully co-exist in that world, and any alarm sounded is quickly squelched by simply turning the page. What a blessing an imagination is! What a gift to be able to envision something that can’t be seen!

The most concise definition of faith can be found in the book of Hebrews… “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” The ability to “see” what isn’t there is faith at its core, to take our vision as evidence of what is possible. To embrace it as reality. That truth becomes no more apparent than in times of difficulty, times when the circumstances we CAN see are perhaps what we don’t want to see. Times when the reality is less than what we want for ourselves. In those times, we are tempted to give up, to let our courage give way to acceptance or fear. In those times, we are tempted to despair. It’s part of the human condition. The proverb rings true; “where there is no vision, the people perish.”

My children have become such a vibrant example of the concept of possibility. In their minds, anything is possible. They have no preconceptions about what can happen, and what can happen simultaneously. More and more, I’m realizing that it is this vision that fuels hope. And faith. It allows us to see byond where we are. It enables us to imagine a different place or time or circumstance, to see ourselves differently. It makes the impossible possible. It makes us willing to lay aside assumptions. It encourages us to see our best selves, our best lives. And to reach for it.

I started this year on a quest for courage, adopting it as my “theme word.” I don’t know how much courage I’ve actually attained, but I can see evidence of courageous acts. Small inclinations toward the possible I can see. Tiny tangible steps toward becoming more of what I want to be. This year, I’m so thankful for the vision that fuels that courage, for the ability to see beyond the evident and take that vision as evidence of what might be. Of what can be.

Instant Gratification.

For my Bug…
From the moment I laid eyes on you, you owned me.
In that instance, I knew you were something special.
That earnest look, punctuated by a smile and interrupted by mischevious ideas.
As you’ve grown, I’ve come to know your incredible imagination, your unmatched resolve, your unquenched spirit.
The way you mold your surroundings by sheer will.
The way your heart is uncontained.
The way you have to dance and sing, as if some part of the universe can only be set in motion by your contribution.
And you’re right.

I’m thankful for the undeserved gift of each of my three children.
But during the Thanksgiving season, for Bug in particular, who’s light entered the world on this day.
To leave its indelible mark.

Happy Birthday, 4yo Bug!

Gourmet.

At our house, we have a Little People Thanksgiving set by Fisher Price that makes an appearance each year. It depicts a very cute version of the first Thanksgiving and includes two pilgrims, two indians, a bountiful picnic table and a little horse pulling a giant pumpkin in his cart. We usually make a big deal about getting it out as a celebration of the season, and this year it happened on Thursday. I was running behind in that part of our Thanksgiving ritual (typical this year), but that didn’t seem to dampen the excitement. After a few skirmishes over who got to help the pony drive his cart and who would hold the girl pilgrim, we settled into playing.

Little Drummer Boy and Bug have been immersed in Thanksgiving activities, programs and crafts this week. They’ve had Thanksgiving dinners at school, presented singing programs complete with chopping sounds and “10 little indians,” made pilgrim books and indian head-dresses, and read books. As LDB was setting up our little first Thanksgiving scene to his satisfaction, I made an off-handed observation: “They’re having their Thankgiving dinner.”  LDB was quick to correct me with a response that made me smile. And think.

“They’re having a FEAST.”

Hmmm. “Feast” is probably a new word for him, and I’m surprised he didn’t ask me how to spell it. We are in a perpetual spelling bee lately spurred on my the first steps in learning to read.

They’re having a feast. It was more than a lesson in semantics. Little Drummer Boy rightly recognized the distinction that our little pilgrims and indians weren’t just eating. It was evident to him they weren’t just getting by with table scraps. They were feasting.

It made me realize the truth that abundance is almost always in the eye of the beholder. Our mindset often determines how full our table is. And while I could expound a whole other post about the delicious family Thanksgiving recipes we look forward to, what’s steaming in the serving dishes really doesn’t affect our recognition of bounty. At least it doesn’t have to.

I’m so thankful for that reminder from my little Thanksgiving Gourmet this year. I want to enjoy this and the upcoming holidayseasons with a gourmet mindset, regardless of the circumstances. I want to cultivate a lifestyle where my eyes are always bigger than my stomach. I want to recognize and embrace the feast before me in each endeavor.

Small things.

8:50am
Well, I got up on the absolute wrong side of the bed this morning. Between travel plans and holiday plans and marketing plans, I’m feeling the stress, and I’ll admit that my gratitude quotient is running a little low. SO, I decided to come to you in real time (hence the time stamp) and see if I can turn this day around with a little giving of thanks.

You know how I love lists (such a nerd). Each year I’ve embarked on the 12 Days of Thanksgiving essay series, I’ve included at least one list of “things I’m thankful for.” You can’t enter the holidays without harkening back to that age-old kindergarten question at least once. And, although it’s not a Tuesday Ten or a Thursday whatever, I had already decided that “S” would represent “small things.” I’ve been expounding on the concept of “small” over the last few months with the launch of my new design business, Small Pond Graphics. It’s made me think about so many small things in business, in relationships, in life that make a big difference. SO, I decided to focus on those little things, wee blessings, that really add richness to my life.

And be thankful for them.

Just thinking about them is already turning my heart around today. Forgive the random order. I’m in real-time after all. Forgive the lack of numbering. It just seems better to dive into a brainstorming list. I hope it will encourage you to look at the small things (and not so small things) bringing blessing to your life.

8:59am
This year, I am thankful for…

The sweet cheek of Baby Girl against mine as I rock her to sleep  >  Little Drummer Boy’s spontaneous “I love you, Mommy”  >  Bug’s uncontained excitement about so MANY things. It’s contagious.  >  Oreos  >  Clients who take time to say “thank you”  >   This office space I’m able to enjoy each day  >  Technology  >  Newspapers from all over the world online  >  The correspondence of dear friends  >  Tangible reminders of special times  >  Electricity  >  Books  >  Crayons  >  Generous parents  >  Autumn’s changing colors  >  Cool weather  >  My new iPhone  >  The blessing of getting paid for doing something I love  >  Good timing  >  Loving and faithful daycare teachers  >  A kindergarten class that inspires Little Drummer Boy  >  Warm blankets  >  Drawings made just for me  >  iTunes gifts  >  Online shopping  > 15 wonderful years at Dux D’Lux Advertising  >  A mentor who told me, “you can do this”  >  Song in D Minor by Tokyo Milk  > Black Gardenia by Aspen Bay  >  Houseplants  >  Baby’s Girls new words — today’s was “shoelaces.” Go figure  >  Imagination  >  Facebook connections  >  Clients willing to take a chance on me  >  Enough money to pay the bills this month  >  Starkville Public Library  >  The Farm  >  Bug, who I brought home on Thanksgiving Day four [!] years ago  >  Thomas the Train and all the stories he inspires at my house  >  Encouraging words  >  Sunshine this morning  >  Kermit, the laptop — enabler of many things both large and small  >  Hand-painted pumpkins  >  The food my Mama will make next week  >  The blessing of my Dad’s stroke recovery  >  Healthy children  >  Giggles  >  Bedtime stories  >  Natural light  >  The opportunity to set my own hours, no matter how crazy they may be  > Lunch with my boys  > A change of scenery  >  Old friends  >  An open heart, despite circumstances  >  God’s love and continual grace each day  >  Kind words from strangers  >  A new day.

9:19am

For the beauty of the earth
For the glory of the skies,
For the love which from our birth
Over and around us lies.

Lord of all, to Thee we raise,
This our hymn of grateful praise.

For the beauty of each hour,
Of the day and of the night,
Hill and vale, and tree and flower,
Sun and moon, and stars of light.

Lord of all, to Thee we raise,
This our hymn of grateful praise.