giving thanks

It's good we have the official holiday of Thanksgiving at least once a year because aside from the gluttony aspect, the media turns to the subject of family and gratitude - however fleeting! I heard a little essay on gratitude this morning that said scientists discovered that gratitude is actually a component in health. Duh!

Who has never stopped to contemplate that if I don't feel like a powder keg ready to detonate that my body functions better?! Really, we needed scientists?

And as for family - if this is the ONE time that people turn homeward that is indeed sad, but apparently that is the case for many people. Why should we need a calendar to tend to the most primal needs of the heart?

I know for many people it is a chore to be with family, so I guess that's why each morning upon awakening as I look at a collage of my family hanging on the wall beside my bed, my day begins with a smile of thanks.

Paris

Its hard to think about the people in Paris who dressed for a concert, or for dinner, and didn't know they were dressing for the hereafter.

The world we live in so woven with horror makes it all the more important to savor each step because the ground on which we walk seems fragile.

Someone posted a quote from Mr. Rogers on Facebook this morning, "When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, "Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.

I'm holding that thought close.

Dinner together

 I would have had no idea in the 1950's that I would look back from a 2015 perspective and cherish those noisy childhood supper-times! But in the last couple weeks I have had conversations with library patrons about their reflections on eating together.

Now I realize, suppertime was an anchor. It was a time to share your day - to laugh, tease, scoff, praise, confess, exult, despair, relate. In those times when our parents had never taken a psychology or parenting course, they innocently provided a safe space for us to learn intimacy, acceptance, self-esteem - a place in the universe that was uniquely our own. I remember if I missed supper for any reason, it was a loss - not just a dietary loss, but I felt I missed out on something important.

And it wasn't quiet, orderly or mannered. It was a conversational free-for-all and one had to be vigorous to get a word in edge-wise - particularly being the fourth of five! But without articulation, it was a branding of belonging.

No price-tag high enough to place on that.

gravy

I just finished reading Academy Street by Mary Costello. It's a novel about a quiet life. Almost nothing happens in it, yet everything does: a haunting portrait drawn with exquisite detail of the ordinary.

And because of her minute reckoning, from time to time my mind flew away with a detail from my own life. Sometime the description was about food aromas. The one that replaced the book's in my own mind was the aroma when we walked through the back door of the kitchen coming home from church on Sunday noon. Immediately we were greeted with the browning smell of roasting meat and our hungry stomachs would sigh with anticipation. Before services, Mother would brown some excellent cut of meat - all  from the local butcher - and set it to a low roast. So all the while the hymns were sung, prayers offered, instruction set forth, sermonizing unraveled, and after church socializing took place that meat was roasting to a melt-in-your-mouth doneness. And with a magician's quickness, mashed potatoes graced with butter and pepper, and if the gods were truly smiling - tender lima beans from the garden (that bear no earthly resemblance to the large mealy hateful things you buy from the frozen food section of your modern grocery store), and gravy- lovely smooth, shining - were all "dished up" and the table burst into action.

That browning smell triggered the whole scenario of family ritual - click, click, click the childhood picture slid into place.

I remember with joy - and hunger pangs.

I think that I shall never see

Walking home from the farmers' market this morning, the scents of basil, tomatoes, peaches, corn, wafting up from my Downton Abbey bag, my happy cup brimmed over. Because, not only do I live within five walking minutes of the market every Saturday morning May through October, my walk takes me through sun-dappled  trees of every description - towering, low, evergreen, leafy - and the immediate coolness is such a delight. A pleasure that grows dimmer and dimmer in this era of air-conditioning.

In childhood, the trees were our absolute refuge. We would sit under the trees to husk corn, peel peaches, hull peas, shell lima beans. Trees had chairs under them -sometimes just house chairs but in lawns there were often big wooden chairs that we later called Adirondack chairs, but surely they were Lancaster County chairs before that! And if those chairs didn't contain working women and children, they held visiting relatives, friends - talking, commiserating, gossiping, laughing, sometimes singing. Even the hottest summer day seemed more bearable with a breeze. The trees were our staying point all summer long,

And for me they still are. Often escaping from the air-conditioned indoors I  go out on our patio and look high up to the blue sky beyond the tall greenery and feel instantly at peace. And judging from the cascading symphonies, all the birds and cicadas agree.

Give us this day

How many times do we read a tragic headline and think how glad we are that we and all our friends are safe from such sorrow? I read the headline of the deck that collapsed in North Carolina as a family photo was being taken and felt a chill. I discovered about a day later, that incident involved a work colleague and her family and was truly horrified. One minute you are healthy, smiling, and in the high of a family reunion and the next minute everyone is in a splintered heap. My so-recently vigorous, strong colleague is in a wheelchair facing months of recovery from a fractured body.

We all know we should say that prayer of gratitude each morning when our feet hit the floor solidly, but it's so easy to forget and go about our day, complaining about the slightest ills. The healthy, happy world that smiles back at us each day is the rarest of sparkling gems.

I need to take out my polishing cloth and shine up each ordinary glorious day and then store them all  in a grateful heart.

Remember

My library is a bit like the Cheers bar. Everyone knows your name and everyone wants to pull up a chair and chat. Only the libation is different - bottled water most of the time and coffee from Katy's on Saturdays. But what I have noticed lately is the commonality with Cheers in terms of confessions. And seniors are my best customers!

Though I do have laments of children, spouses, in-laws, etc., from the general population, I'm getting wholesale mourning of memory loss. Seniors check twice, thrice, to see if I've given back their cards after a transaction - and the search leads to - "I go into a room and can't remember why I made the trip." Or "I saw this book review in Sunday's Post and wondered if you had it but I can't remember title or author - but it looked good!" Or "I misplaced my car keys, phone, ____________ (fill in the blank of the moment)."

It's all so recognizable! And perhaps that's why they come to me instead of my whippersnapper of a boss. On one of the first days at the library he said, "So how long have you been in the system?" And I said, " Since 1982"... and looking sideways at him commented, "and you're weren't born yet, right?" And he grinned and said, "Not quite." (!)

So there you have it, folks. We've been around! And that hanging out allows us to forget billions of details - from 60 years ago, last month, yesterday, 5 minutes ago. It's all good! By grace we are here- " awake, alive and alert" like my long-ago pastor used to request we stay during his sermons. We have so much big-picture living to be thankful for, we simply can't sweat the small stuff!