Today is Thanksgiving. It seems only proper I should stay with the thought and state things for which I am grateful. It can be found, too, quit easily no matter what I am experiencing in the now. Things can always be worse – not that death isn’t the worse one can deal with because in my book it is. It’s just that somewhere within all the tragedy hope exists.
And for that I am thankful.
The first Thanksgiving was two cultures giving thanks for the bounty of the earth. Nothing went to waste, for which the Indians and the Pilgrims were thankful. They had furs and wood to keep them warm, tepees and log cabins to live in. Stores were holed up for the long winter ahead.
Like my ancestors back then I am thankful for the spring. Seeing the first snow crocus bloom in my garden is an eternal reminder that nothing really dies. The plants that withered, the leaves which fell, are blossoming anew, filling the earth with beauty. Spring is my favorite time of year. Invigorating – it reminds me of life.
I am thankful for my family. Without them I would have no purpose.
I am eternally in debt to my pets, as they are my best buds and friends. I can’t imagine life without them. They seem to magically appear whenever I am upset, intuitively knowing I need comfort and providing it. I love cats the most. Independence is a trait I admire. Nothing soothes me more than to pet Callie, a calico Norwegian Forest cat, while she purrs on my lap. Alone time I call it. Time to rejuvenate.
I am thankful for the friends I have, especially the close ones. They are the shoulders I cry on and the ears I vent my frustrations upon.
I am thankful for nature. I am never closer to God than when I am in the garden among the plants and the creatures of nature.
I am thankful for my husband. He is my rock.
This year, as we sit down with family and friends, let us remember that what we give thanks for is what our hope has provided. May it be bountiful this year!