As I’ve been thinking through a summary of this year’s Thanksgiving experiment, I’ve realized that thoughts have not come as easily as they did in the 2008 rendition. Some years are just like that. Some days. Last year, my mind was hopping with post ideas. I was still high on the joy of a new Baby Girl, and one day’s post produced a whole list of other ideas for the next. This year, thanksgiving thoughts have not come as freely. The process has been a little more labored, and it’s required more discipline to fulfill my commitment of posting on twelve consecutive days.
Discipline. What an ugly word. It implies actual work, actual intention, actual effort, actual choice.
It’s so easy to think about giving thanks in terms of circumstances. And circumstances can be challenging. This year has been hard for our family. In some ways it carries a sense of loss. And loss does not readily co-exist with gratitude.
In February, my father (Paw-T) suffered a fairly severe stroke. As severe strokes go, it happened in the best way possible, and he has been recovering nicely. Still, it represented the loss of some skills, the loss of a carefree way of life, the loss of comfort, the loss of the familiar, and I suppose the loss of my last “fragments of childhood” as I wrote at the time.
This summer, for finanical reasons, Quiver decided to close down the small landscape design business he’s had for the last four years. The challenge of finding a job to use his incredible design and construction skills has been difficult in these times, and he has been so diligent and humble in the process. Still, it represented the loss of his dream (at least temporarily), the loss of his control over a very full “Daddy” schedule, and I suppose the loss of some confidence in his own decisions.
With the weight of loss, how can I find a way to be grateful?
As I’ve forced myself to look at that question in black and white as opposed to in the hazy abstract of my mind, I realize it’s shamefully easy. For, these things are true:
The loss is not as great as some have experienced this year.
Dad can walk. Dad can speak. Dad can think. My parents can spend the night with us and keep their grandchildren on a day like today. They can travel with us to the zoo. They can laugh. We can visit the farm and enjoy it’s carefree experiences. We have them.
Quiver has work. He can play despite the stress. He can give baths at night and read stories. We have a home we enjoy. Our gifts are vibrant. They are healthy and growing–laughing and singing and dancing. We are here. We are alive. We are together.
We are blessed. And to recognize blessing is perhaps the most treasured of disciplines. Yes, there’s that ugly word again. As I sum up these 12 Days, I’m not at the same uninhibited place of joy I was last year. But, I AM at a place of joy–once again at a deeper, more tested and, therefore, richer place of joy. And I find it’s very natural to say “thank you”– to God, to one another, to new friends, to old ones, even to loss. The lesson of these 12 Days:
A thankful heart is a discipline that can flourish independent of circumstances.
Hello & welcome! I’m Haley Montgomery, and I’m the designer and owner of 
