Walking the dog in the violet light last night, I turned my mind to giving thanks, which is, of course, the purpose of this weekend, and yet is a posture I forget so easily. How much easier and more natural it is to create a to-do list, one that looks forward with momentum, with urgency, with necessity. And yet, as I walked over rain-drenched leaves and woodsmoke came from houses around us, I wondered about what was really necessary and how maybe giving thanks is far more to the point.
I start with my beautiful family, with the fact that I enjoy the freedoms and relative wealth of living in Canada, that I still have my parents and the rest of our family, for health, for work I love, for longstanding friendships that sustain me, for beauty, for our neighbourhood, for this dog who gets me out every day and who has meant I've met such lovely people.
For pain that makes me take better care of myself.
For the fact that we are all home together now. That I still take great delight and pride in each of my kids, that I enjoy their company, that we find humour together, that while I walked they were finishing tidying the house for a Thanksgiving supper with extended family. For my grandma at nearly 93 -- we talk and it stuns me to think that I have a living, loving bridge to a time that is nearly a century ago.
For brilliant trees. For hot coffee. For knitting beautiful wool.For sleeping in. For good books to read.
I settle deep within. What is there not to give thanks for? Even the things that hurt, the things I wait for, the longings and griefs - even there I can find reason to give thanks.
The sky has deepened to a rich royal blue. When I look straight overhead, tiny stars, little pinpricks of light, shine down on me.