New Years Eve, we opened the Joys and Good Times box.
Slips of paper, the back of receipts and a shred of napkin, far more than we might have thought, dumped out on the coffee table.
I was apprehensive, afraid they would seem feel-good and ridiculous in hindsight.
It was actually kind of wonderful.
Something about the smallness of the things we found time to write about. Something about the record of a first bird at the bird feeder, beans and brown bread for supper, catching up on work for the first time in awhile, a dance. A pair of new red shoes.
Kind of like happiness distilled. All the sorrows and tears and disappointments that might also have been, forgotten for the moment. Swallowed up in gratitude.
Maybe if only that gratitude extends to, 'well that year wasn't as bad as I thought it might be..." It's still giving thanks.
Sometimes, we think thanksgiving has to be a big deal. And for lack of the big things to mention, we let it slide.
But you know what's a big deal?
Not thanksgiving at all.
The preacher mentioned it yesterday as the worst offence.
So despite where you are and what you feel... Despite what pale face looks back at you in the mirror and you just wish it wasn't you. Despite everything...open your lips and say thank you for one thing. And remember what that scrap of loose-leaf said.