Whew! I’m thinking through Wednesday’s post to sum up this year’s EyeJunkie experiment in giving thanks, and I think I need to lighten up a bit for a few days. So…

What’s a 12 Days of Thanksgiving without a few lists? You know the ones. The “what I’m thankful for” lists. I have an expanded Tuesday Ten one I’m brainstorming for tomorrow, but I thought I’d share a few things from the Thanksgiving Tree we’re decorating this year. I’ll admit, we haven’t been quite as faithful with the everyday part of it I had planned, but that’s usually the way it works. It’s been a fun experiment that excited the boys, which made me excited, too. They don’t really understand the concept of giving thanks completely. But, they’re learning. (Aren’t we all?) And, this has been a fun way to help them. For a celebration-junkie like myself, hearing them shout “our Thanksgiving Tree” as they ran toward their breakfast poptarts was enough incentive to add the tradition to next year’s November as well. Enjoy the fruit of our thanksgiving “ornaments!”

Little Drummer Boy:
Our Thanksgiving bracelets [the little tags we put on the tree that they enjoyed wearing on their arms first]
“I got to see the lions and tigers”
Our food
The little pumpkin [the one holding the “Thanksgiving bracelets”–it’s the little things, people]
Our new curtains [there’s my good catch in training]
G-Mo, Paw-T and Aunt B

Squiggle Bug:
Our family of scarecrows [the ones sitting on our porch which we say goodbye to each morning]
The Thanksgiving Tree [that’s my celebration-junkie in training]
Our trucks [all 6,377 of them]
Riding in a racecar buggy at the grocery store [thank you, Kroger]
“I got to see the giraffes”

Baby Girl:
[we added things about Baby Girl we were thankful for, and she shouted them out in her own special language]
She is curious [translation: Mommy hasn’t had a heart attack (yet) while Baby Girl’s in this stage]
Baby Girl’s toys
She loves spaghetti [and we have the Spray ‘N Wash stock to prove it]
She’s almost grown up [apparently that will make her even more fun]
Her rash went away quickly [see item about emergency room]

Quiver:
Three gifts: LDB, Bug & Baby Girl
Good weather on our zoo trip
The work we have
God’s forgiveness
Mommy

Me:
Medicine [shortly after a weekend with our first two trips to the emergency room — minor problems, but traumatic (for Mommy) nonetheless]
God’s word
No rain on a particularly long day out of town for a meeting
A fun zoo weekend together with G-Mo and Paw-T
Saturdays

Yesterday I was privileged to sleep a little later. Quiver is normally an early riser anyway, and he was kind enough to keep a handle on the boys’ excitement while I slept. In case you’re wondering, two preschool boys whispering to one another “Shhh! Mommy’s asleep” is never as quiet as they intend it to be. But, I always love the conversations I hear through our walls when I’m in that almost-awake state.

Saturday’s conversation from the bathroom involved Quiver telling Little Drummer Boy the story of MY life over shaving and teeth brushing. I’m not sure how it started, but it was a much-simplified account of places and houses and times. LDB seemed to assume that he was present in Mommy’s tummy for everything before the world he now knows. I couldn’t help but smile as Quiver quickly attempted to move the conversation along from the explanation that no, LDB was not actually in Mommy’s tummy for the whole of my life. “Where was I?” If anybody wants to take that one, please go right ahead.

I can tell that Little Drummer Boy has been trying to wrap his mind around time and places lately. The boys and I recently drove through my hometown on our way somewhere, and he was amazed that Mommy lived there as a girl. He was amazed that Mommy ever lived anywhere but our house. He was amazed that Mommy was ever anything other than what he knows me to be. Sometimes I’m amazed myself, and when confronted with those other things, it can be quite a heart-searching ride. Last week he asked me WHEN I was a girl. My first reaction was:  17 seconds ago, never, too many years gone by, and all of the above. My answer was “a while back.” That’s the best I could do at a weary 10:16pm when all the really profound questions come out of his mind and all the really dumbfounded answers come out of mine.

At their young ages, my gifts are sort of in a perpetual state of now that I sometimes envy. Last weekend’s trip to the zoo could just as easily have been this morning. Saturday can always be tomorrow morning. They are slowly growing to treasure experiences, to remember them and place them in context, to see their impact on the structure of life. I find myself growing in that same way again.

This Thanksgiving season, I’ve been looking at the signposts in my life–those moments and situations, like the crescent moon, when I realized “I don’t have the whole picture, but I know it’s there.” Putting those experiences in context, I can see how much bigger a life is that one single decision, than a series of decisions–how much bigger God is. The path from point A to B sometimes detours through points C to Z, and we are quick to call the pitstops “mistakes.” We find ourselves somewhere we never thought we’d be, and in assessing the destination, we overlook the path.

I am so thankful that God is a God who reveals Himself often most eloquently and immediately in times of wandering. I’m so thankful that He isn’t found only at the destination, but at all points in between.

The song is true. Often the times you lose your way are the times when you find out who you really are and what you’re about. When you realize you’ve overlooked something, sometimes you learn how to really see. The “wrong turns” in my life are moving me toward a more humble way of seeing the world and the people in it–a real view that can’t coexist with cliches and simplistic truisms, a view where faith MUST meet the road. It’s a blessing that’s been hard-wrestled. And I’m thankful for it.

Happy Birthday, Bug! I brought you home for the first time three years ago on Thanksgiving Day. Since then, your smile has provided continual light.

Little Drummer Boy had his annual Thanksgiving program today complete with Pilgrim costumes, Native American headdresses, a tee pee and an alarming number of lyrics about chopping turkeys. Quiver was tied up with work, so it was just me and my favorite 4-year-old for lunch consisting of… turkey sandwiches. I must have heard “I love you, Mommy” 637 times and enjoyed it every time. I’m realizing that I say “I love you” to my gifts pretty often–with every available breath, actually. Now, I’m starting to get it back at me. Granted, sometimes it’s translated as “don’t spank me, Mommy,” but more often than not it signifies a grand old time.

All the Pilgrims and Indians today got me thinking. What’s a 12 Days of Thanksgiving without a little history? And, courtesy of the Starkville Public Library and LDB’s penchant for wanting to read the same book over and over (and over) again, I’ve learned a new little bit of history this year about the power of the pen.

A woman named Sarah Hale is credited with being the catalyst for the creation of a designated national day of Thanksgiving–the one we celebrate now on the fourth Thursday of November. We checked out a book from the library about her called Thank You Sarah, The Woman Who Saved Thanksgiving by Laurie Halse Anderson. It has great illustrations and a fun account of this unusual woman.

Sarah Hale was a writer and activist long before women even had the right to vote. She was a teacher, a poet, a songwriter (does Mary Had a Little Lamb ring a bell?) and a mom. She was also the editor of an influential women’s magazine–one of the first of its kind. She used that forum to lobby for any number of issues close to her heart. One of those issues was a national day of Thanksgiving. She first lobbied for the idea by challenging states to set aside a day. She succeeded, but every state had a different day. She felt there was value in creating a common day set aside for all Americans to give thanks. So, she began writing again–both columns in her magazine and letters and more letters. All in all, she spent 38 years writing letters and articles about Thanksgiving, including letters to five different presidents.

Finally, in 1863, when the country was in the midst of the bloody Civil War, she found someone who agreed that a national day of Thanksgiving could be a positive force in the American culture. On October 3rd of that year, President Abraham Lincoln delivered the first Thanksgiving proclamation.

What can I learn from history?

1. Sarah’s pen was indeed a powerful tool. And today, the pen is easier to wield than ever before with countless opportunities for “citizen media”– vehicles like blogs, social networking sites, email correspondence, and yes, the U.S. Postal Service still runs 6 days per week.

2. Sarah didn’t give up until her message was embraced–even after 38 years. It wasn’t enough for it to be heard. She was persistent until she convinced that one person who could make a difference.

3. The results had lasting power–so much so that a century and a half later President Barack Obama will make a Thanksgiving proclamation on Thursday, November 26th.

People with conviction can have a powerful impact if they choose to use their voices. Whatever I have to say, I better make it count.

I saw the crescent moon tonight on my way home, the tiniest sliver of bright edging the shadowed sphere. It’s waxing toward ever more brightness as the days move through this month. It’s just a slice tonight shining for all it’s worth. I can see the whole, but only a tiny piece is lending it’s light. That’s all I need to know it’s there. And that the full brightness is coming.

I’ve been thinking lately about the experiences and relationships that have added their slices of light in my life over the years. Just passing phases and appointed times, fleeting moments and unexpected interruptions. The people and situations that have, for a brief moment, moved me, edging me closer to what I already knew was there. I’m finding it incredibly hard to articulate the impact. And, in some ways I’m processing the loss of their sheer brevity. Times that may have seemed wasted, but were powerfully not.

Whether a word well-spoken, a push in a new direction, an open heart, an unsolicited gift, a need met, a humble correction, a time set aside… It goes on. I’m undeniably thankful for each one–for different reasons, with different outcomes, of course. But thankful nonetheless. Shining all the light you can muster into a moment is an incredible gift. It’s a sacrifice and a risk worth taking.

I’m inspired toward generosity of spirit. In the moments. Toward shining.