The kids have been sick, I have been sick, and the change in seasons always does a number on me. But here we are, and it’s Thanksgiving already. It’s one of my favorite days because I like to look at the little things in my life (and big) and reflect on what I feel thankful for.
I confess that I see a lot that distresses me. Wars still rage, people don’t have jobs, and our Congress is an embarrassment. Meanwhile, anyone who feels different from the norm remains scared and bullies continue to bully. It’s hard in times like this to just put on a game face and buck up.
But that I must do.
Meanwhile, normal life chugs along. A few nights back, I was not feeling well, Big Man was on call, and I was attempting to put the kids to bed. It wasn’t going well, I was tired, frustrated, sick, and I just gave up. I went to bed, the kids stalked me, I ignored them, and tears were had by all. Eventually, one fell asleep next to me, and one passed out on the floor.
I woke up the next morning with a note on my bed stand. It read, “I’m sorry, mommy. I still love you.”
It gets like this, you know. You are pushed to the limit and all that is left is to say is I still love you despite all the crap.
I feel like that about my kids some days. I feel like that about our country most days.
Something’s gotta give, something will give, but I still love it here because I get to say things like this without fear. My little neighborhood sports “Drill Baby Drill” signs amidst a host of blue. Despite apparent idealogical differences, the undercurrent of friendly neighborhood kindness remains. In any direction I look, I know I can get help should I need it in the form of snow shoveling, kid-watching, and the lending of eggs, sugar, and tools.
My neighbors remain kind even if we disagree. My mom still sends holiday cards and thank you notes even when I fall abysmally behind on such tasks, and my babies still love me despite my imperfections and I could not be more grateful. When people look beyond differences, see past imperfections, and make inroads towards forgiveness….well, that is when I really feel grateful. It seems everywhere I look, there are lessons to be learned.
And that is where I am left, in my own home, trying to do better. I can be grateful that my kids teach me everyday and that I am willing to learn from them.
Maybe this is where I am hung-up. It doesn’t seem like as a country, we are willing to learn. I hope I am wrong and if I am, I apologize.