seasons of thanksgiving

The last day of November.

I woke up and peeked out the window to find nothing but winter silence: black outline of trees, white dust of snow, stillness of the world folded in on itself. December is about to turn, and Advent eager on its heels. I love the waiting of this corner of the year.

I’m resolved anew to welcome winter this time, to stop grimacing against the cold, hunching my shoulders against the wind. To relax into the reality of the world around me, a world that is frozen and frigid, but still bright with light and bathed in moon once sun sets early. There’s gratitude for winter yet, if I can dig my toes into the snow to find it.

Today I’m writing about gratitude over at The Power of Moms. About trying to grab all that life has to offer, whether fistfuls of green beans or fleeting kisses from growing boys. As the season of thanksgiving ends and the wonder of waiting begins, I’m mindful of how much gratitude matters, how it shapes our vision as the world around us changes, how it warms with hope even as life gets cold.

To read more about my gardening mishaps (and gratitude for these sweet boys I get to mother), come on over to the Power of Moms…

every parent’s prayer

Yesterday was supposed to be a lovely little family celebration.

The second anniversary of S’s baptism, it was supposed to set the tone for baptism celebrations to come. A special meal, a special prayer, a special candle lit on the dinner table.

And considering this blog gets hits every single day from people searching for baptism anniversary prayers, it certainly should have received at least as much attention as last year.

But then yesterday became One Of Those Days. In which the dog had two (yes, TWO) seizures on top of an already crazy morning. I spent most of the day cleaning bodily fluids off of children, floors, self, and dog. Not a shining star Tuesday in my book.

As the special meal went uncooked and the special candle stayed tucked away in the cupboard, I let myself get mopey. Some mothering spirit I was proving to be.

But then F came home with the kind of news that turns even a mopey, cruddy day on its head. The kind of news that involves good friends and scary surgeries and the ICU. The kind of news that reminds you that safe deliveries and healthy mamas are nothing to take for granted. The kind of news that, in F’s words, is every husband’s nightmare.

I stopped moping about the baptism dinner right then and there. It did not matter one bit.

What did matter was the beautiful, beaming, healthy, happy two year-old who spent the day belting out AH-YAY-YOO-YAH at the top of his lungs because “Alleluia from church” is now his favorite song.

What did matter was the beautiful, starting-to-beam, healthy, happy baby who spent the day nursing in my arms, while just miles away another mother couldn’t even hold her newborn, let alone nurse.

What did matter was that I was healthy enough to drag the whole motley crew out of the house for a long walk in gorgeous fall sunshine.

So in case you, like me, needed a reminder today that life is too short to spend time whining about our own small worries, please go here and read this story and prayer that I serendipitously stumbled across last night. And then go hug your babies even tighter.

Because although every morning’s news brings piles of reasons why we should not take one single day of this life for granted, we seem to need reminders over and over again.

At least I do.