There are an awful lot of things I wish were different. Everyone could say the same. In fact, some make a habit of saying it, stuck in an "oh woe is me" mode. Sometimes the circumstances of life hurl us into that mode with such force that we cannot catch our breath as we spin, helpless to stop, but thankfully circumstances change, that is one certain thing, nothing stays the same.
I wish for more money. Everyone does, especially these days, a ton of it, money provides more opportunity, and who doesn't wish for that?
I wish none of us would ever get hurt, or sick, or grow old, and we could always be together.
I wish my house had enough table space that all my family, children and their in-laws and friends, could gather in one place for holiday festivities, so they would never feel obligated to choose, or that their time had to be divided.
I wish that there was a park right next door where everyone could spread out and have plenty of room to run, and roll, and romp, and hop, and throw, and bat, and bump, and jump for joy.
It sounds like the song lyrics my little kids sang with gusto in the back of our loaded station wagon.- "a big big house, with lots and lots of rooms; a big big table, with lots and lots of food; a big big yard, where we can play football; a big big house, it's my Father's house". Sweet were those days!
With all that I wish I could make different, I am a thousand times more grateful for how right and good so many more things are, have been, and will yet be.
It has probably been about two decades since beginning our family tradition of naming three things we are thankful for before enjoying Thanksgiving dinner. It was an idea I happened to hear about on the car radio one day near Thanksgiving, while going about my usual motherly chores. Each person at the Thanksgiving table would be given 3 items, unpopped popcorn kernels were suggested, to be dropped one by one into a jar as the person dropping them stated what they were thankful for. The idea of it being, to have tangible representatives of all of our "thankful's" as they accumulated in the jar through the years.
The first several years of additions in the mostly empty jar, barely had a presence. Slowly they occupied more and more space, and with time, beads, and other tiny objects, have indeed filled to the brim, that little jar of thankful's.
It was easy back then to get stuck in oh woe is me mode, there were so many difficulties, but those little kids needed positive influences to be stronger than the negative. We all needed to make ourselves consider what was right and good, to consciously refuse the vortex of negativity permission to suck us in. So began our habit of at least one time a year, thinking and speaking aloud in the presence of eachother, of that for which we were thankful.
Little boys being little boys, meant the idea was first met with eye rolls, as they were more intently focused on dinner rolls, while little sister loved and took advantage of every opportunity to take center stage. Sometimes they could not resist the chance to be a comedian for a ready audience, and would name something they were sure would get the whole gang laughing and fooling around, I should add here, that some big boys find it equally impossible to resist being like little boys when they all get together at Mom's house, like the good old days, which means that this is a continuing activity of family gatherings to this day. Sometimes the named things were just that, things, like a bike, skateboard, or skip-it. But every year, at least one would take the ritual seriously, having given genuine thought to what they were prepared to say they were thankful for, and at the risk of appearing corny, be brave enough to put into words what is not always easy to. Eachother. Home. Food. A mentor. Jesus. Grandparents. Parents. It was an activity that bared hearts, exposed vulnerability, helped us establish who we were, who we would become, and who we are today.
The family has grown; grown up, grown out, grown larger, and grown comfortably accustomed to expressing love and care. It is obvious now, that this Thanksgiving tradition which started out being a somewhat bothersome activity to keep us impatiently waiting for all the good food that was getting cold, has become something we would all miss most about the day if not continued.
The tradition has been fine tuned and perfected since those early days. We now wait to put hot foods on the table until after we've done our thankful's, and the last couple years we have written our thankful's on paper, as well as stating them, so that in the future we can look back and remember exactly what each little bead, or popcorn kernel, or button in our thankful's jar, represents. Instead of one jar, a separate jar for each year will contain our beads, papers, and a photo of those present for Thanksgiving dinner, my daughter-in-love's idea (my friend Mary calls her kids' in-laws, "in-loves"; another idea I think is appropriate and have adopted, thanks Mary!).
One of my daughter-in-love's parents joined us this year, we broke her Mom in by unintentionally neglecting to tell her that the bathroom doorknob sticks; she was locked in. With all the activity in the house, when we heard knocking, it didn't seem like anything so unusual that it needed to be addressed. When she had repeatedly knocked and called for help to no avail, she finally managed to jiggle, (which is the effective method) the stuck lock, and enable her own freedom. She was a good sport, we thanked her for the days first belly laugh.
My heart is full. As we went around the table, each taking a turn to name our thankful's, it was a beautiful traditional activity to participate in. The children made us laugh as the little one new to verbal communication was thankful for "1) bus, 2) bus, 3) bonk" (the sound his bead made as it hit the bottom of the jar!), and my granddaughter raised her hand and said "pick me" as she sensed uncle Andy needed help choosing what he was thankful for! My daughter was thankful for brothers who were like "six dad's". We were thankful for opportunity, ability, family, friends, health, Volkswagens, children, grandchildren, spouses, jobs, troops, safety, freedom, love, peace, joy, Santa, another year, energy, the Bible, and Jesus, always Jesus, and, that we carry on this family tradition.
There was play time as the festivities of the indoors moved to the out, with fabric tunnel crawling and rolling, and an all time uncle favorite-picking up children and spinning, and potato sack (pillow case) hopping. G-ma came through with a train whistle, harmonica, spoon and pot lid, and plastic container of peanuts for shaking, that combined for a band. Auntie brought out an old favorite, sidewalk chalk. We wore everybody out, and then ate pie, again.
There are an awful lot of things I wish were different, but as I sit at a makeshift dining table fashioned by my Dad and I a few years ago, of plywood stretched across two smaller tables, to be assembled and taken apart as necessity warrants, I am thankful.
I am thankful for the free fabric leftover from my work, that drapes perfectly in one long stretch down its length.
I am thankful for a space, tight as it is, that accommodates that table, surrounded by mismatched chairs.
I am thankful for My Mom, who unlike me, loves to be in the kitchen putting to good use her culinary skills, with sincerest and deepest love and esteem for those who'll benefit from her servants heart.
I am thankful to share the moments around that table, as I always have, with the people who are my family and friends. Sometimes, as they take their turn telling everyone what they are thankful for, even as they are all now adults, they have a certain facial expression, or smile, that for a split second shows me the face of who they used to be, and I melt inside. Sometimes the new additions, my daughter-in-love's or grandchildren, bare their own hearts, and again, mine melts.
I am thankful that my parents share these moments.
All things considered, I guess it really would not be as meaningful if my space were larger, and I didn't have to re-arrange every piece of furniture to accommodate a homemade dining table and hodgepodge of chairs, and we would have lost a laugh if my bathroom doorknob didn't stick. If I had a ton of money, I would probably have had the whole day catered to save all the work in the kitchen, Mom would not prefer that. And what of our jar of thankful's? Well, we wouldn't want that to change.
I guess when it comes right down to it, there's really not so much I wish were different after all. It's a matter of perspective. A heart attitude of gratitude.
That collection of mostly useless objects in an old jar, has turned out to be even more than I imagined it might, and hoped it would, all those years ago. Each otherwise useless object bears the responsibility of representing a piece of what has been important to us. As we took the time then and do still today, to consider the many things we could name, it is sometimes difficult to narrow down to just three, but just those three thankful's have filled to capacity that little jar, and now overflows into new jars.
Very much the same as all the thankful's in my heart.
My jar/heart/cup, runneth over!
