thankfullness

i am thankful. i am thankful that some holidays you can get a big fat F on and they end like all the others and you can set your sight on the next one.

i had visions.
i had visions of pinecone crafts. cooking and stirring. aprons and sampling. candles and music.
thankful children reading the story of pilgrims, sacrifice, belief and gratitude.

it was beautiful... in my head.

the reality came as we realized a month too late that we needed to re-do the kids bedroom and build the new beds before we got snow... in other words right now. so we emptied the kids room and when i say we i mean ari and grayson. they were very helpful and did a fantastic job of dumping their every earthly possession into my living room. this is life without a basement.. or garage.. or any other choice really.

so at this point i pretty much qualify for the hoarders show. nice.

candles and music? no. stacks and piles? yes.
pinecone crafts? no. injuries received trying to step over babies and tripping on blocks while slipping on papers while painting a room? yes.

my contribution to the family thanksgiving dinner table was made not with aprons and little helpers but at 9 pm the night before to the background music of crying children being hurried through the bath.
the thanksgiving book was read not curled in front of the fire with tea but in the car on the 3 hour drive to the ranch getting a kink in my neck and a slightly hoarse voice.

siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.

fail. that is all i kept thinking. what kind of thanksgiving feels like this? hurried.frustrated.cranky.   

i love holidays. i should say i love holidays done well. i like my holidays with a hazy glow, fit for a picture frame, and set to the soundtrack of it's a wonderful life. what is so unrealistic about that?

um.. everything. ok.

so... i thought i had figured it out. i had all the best intentions. in my quest to make these days real and special and picture frame worthy i have possibly missed the point.

i was never about making them something they were not. you know the crazy lady in the kitchen that is unbearable to be near until the guests hit the door and then suddenly finds her million dollar smile. it isn't that...

i just so desperately want them to be magic. down blanket memories on cold nights. a tablespread of warm fuzzies with a giant side serving of delicious i can't get enough i wish every day was as good as today. and you know what? sometimes they are! sometimes things fall into place and the stars align and the holiday magic rains special sprinkles down on us like manna from heaven... and sometimes...well sometimes your thanksgiving ends in a hotel room with a

"grayson we are trying to be thankful here... sit down and be quiet!!!"

uh... right.

but as i sit here in the dark trying to not become the mean mom on kids who are so over tired they aren't tired... i realized something. you don't become thankful because thanksgiving was perfect, the silver was straight, your centerpiece was the bomb, and everyone loved your pinecone crafts.

you don't become thankful on thanksgiving at all.

thanksgiving is a time to celebrate your thankfulness. to give a thankful heart it's moment in the sun. to remember to say what is already in there out loud. i still believe in the warm fuzzies. i believe a good pinecone craft can turn a frown upside down....but the gift this year came in the form of a nice big, fat giant FAIL stamp. it covered my expectations and aspirations with it's dark red ink and highlighted all of the glaring white empty vastness of where true thankfulness comes from. it comes from yesterday.. and the day before and the day before that. it is a heart that feels the blessing of simply being a heart. of beating to the tune of the one who formed it. of hearing the gently rhythmic breath of babies drifting to sleep. of family that just wants to see you.. pinecone crafts or none. of life and breath and another day to drink it in.

so thank you God, whose name i think i do know. thank you for my life.