Skip to main content

Count Your Blessings: Name Them One By One


Preparations for Thanksgiving are in full swing.  I walk by cans of pumpkin pie, brown sugar and all the fixins' when I buy milk.  (Speaking of...this is the time of year I stock up on baking supplies.  Sugar and everything else is going up so now is a good time to get them!)

Orange, yellow and brown decorations are now on clearance with the Halloween decorations as Christmas crowds them all out.

But thanksgiving isn't a food or a decoration or something to buy at the store.  

In our easy come and easy go culture...do we really get thankfulness?  

When I ate canned beans growing up,  I couldn't help but think about the hard work of planting and harvesting.  

As I sit in my living room, I'm thankful for the hard work that it took to do the walls and the floors.  The time and the sacrifice the men in my life gave to make this room.

I'm thankful and humbled when I get my paycheck and it drives me to work harder to make sure that I'm earning every penny of it.

Mostly, I'm thankful for my family and friends in my life.  But as I count those blessings-I remember the hard work that it has taken and will take to maintain those close ties.

As I think about it...it seems like thankfulness is a choice to make and the depth of our thankfulness dependent on the depth of the hard work and/or sacrifice or cost.  

The sacrifice of my God.  The sacrifice of my family. 

The hard work, endurance, dedication and patient planting and sowing.  The staying.

Isn't this what Thanksgiving is all about?

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

1940 Canned Apple Butter: Family Root Cellar

I loved exploration as a child.  From opening the door and going down the stairs to get something from my Grandma's root cellar or exploring old homesteads while checking cows.  I credit my Mom with teaching us to appreciate those things that represented the people who had gone before us. When I moved with my husband and boys to a house on the family ranch-I began exploring immediately.  This was the house my Aunt and Uncle lived in during my childhood.  My Grandparents had lived there and many other families dating back to 1900 when it was built.   With two little boys in tow, I made my way to the root cellar and found a treasure cove.  Old text books belonging to the original family who had been a teacher, the original medicine cupboard, tools, trash and memorabilia.   I felt like an archeologist sifting through layers of debris representing generations and culture.  And I was.  I hauled truckloads of trash to the dump (some...

Letter to me with Young Boys

(The challenge today is to write a letter to myself of something I know now, I wish I would have known then.) Dear Heather I'm writing to you this morning to remind you how truly fast this time of your life will go and how you will long for it in a few short years. As I write this, I know you will shake your head fiercely and maybe even snort out a curt remark. May 1st, 1991.  You turned 21 in February and became a mom in April. You will be moving soon to begin your ministry. Right now you feel as if the key to your heart was placed in your arms just one week ago. You look in those brown eyes and can't imagine anything else in time. Hold on to that. In a few short years he will be a man and live far away. You will remember the days of him in your arms and will cherish every second. Stop worrying about what people think and about money and what you should do. It will all work out the way it should. You concentrate on being with....

Diabetes-Opened to Disease OR Open to Connecting to my Strengths

I've tried living in denial for two years after the big D diagnoses was handed over.  Honestly, I just don't want to talk about it.  Outwardly seemly calm and disconnected from it.  Inwardly terrified. As a plant that is stressed is open to disease, injury and death so to our bodies are.  I opened myself up to this.  Stress, lack of sleep, bad nutrition, overweight and lack of exercise.  For some reason I believed that if I ran fast enough and worked hard enough, I would outrun my family genes.  The tiny room in the back of my brain locked with a key has kept the fear of this disease at bay even though I could hear its screaming when life quieted down. My Aunt died piece by piece to this disease.  First a heart attack and quadruple by-pass.  Then a toe.  Next a foot.  Legs came next along with more heart attacks.  Kidneys shutting down.  She died very young. When I was little, my Aunt Ally gave herself s...