One of my favorite sounds in the world : the tearing crackle of Velcro waking me up in the middle of the night. Even when I can’t go back to sleep until the alarm goes off, I am so thankful for that abrasive sound. It means that, for a few hours, he is safe.
You never really know what it is like to walk in another’s shoes. Even your husband’s. I tell him often I could never do his job but that I appreciate all that he does. Even when it keeps him from special events, or anniversaries, or holidays, I know that he is following his calling to make this world a better place. I am thankful for him on so many levels, beyond his profession. He is a good man, friend, husband, father, a stand-up guy that my girls and I are blessed to have in our lives.
Best birthday present ever : a phone call in the middle of the night alerting me to the fact that my 3 month old daughter had pooped. Even though diapers are a thing of the past, I still recall the tears of joy and the thrill of such a wonderful blessing.
As a third time mom, I thought myself experienced. But no one could ever have prepared me for the dark journey of a NICU stay, of your tiny, sick little baby whose life is precariously in others’ hands. Of being torn between your healthy toddlers at one place and waiting in a cold room as your 5 lb. baby is operated on and told that she probably wouldn’t make it. Then hearing she would have a bag attached to her, possibly forever. Of having to watch this sweet baby fight so hard just to be “normal” and being unable to share anything but words of love and carefully scheduled snuggling. And although there were a world of scary diapers after that first one, I have been secretly thankful for each one.
Cleaning my kitchen calms me like a combination yoga routine/wonder drug. Whether it is post cake creation when there is fondant hanging from the ceiling and peaks of white powdered sugar almost large enough to ski on, or when I am scraping bits of paint off the granite or hardwood after an art party with friends, it is always a time of reflection for me. A silent moment of thanks being given for a time well had and a delicious memory being made.
Although to be clear, my house is neither the most orderly or spotless on the block. Or the county. Maybe even farther. While I like putting my kitchen back into order, “Better Homes and Gardens” would probably have a hard time finding much to photograph in our home even after I dub it “clean.”
Then there are quiet post-bedtime nights writing… seeing a heron in flight or a small family of otters meandering along the shore of the creek on my morning run… laughing with friends while standing in the heat of the day at a neighborhood yard sale… seeing all four of the girls crowded at the small picnic table in the backyard that their daddy built for them when their little legs didn’t even reach the ground… unexpected meteor showers on a very dark night… the smell of fresh banana bread that your oldest daughter takes pride in baking… hearing the “Star-Spangled Banner” before baseball games… cubes of lucsious watermelon on a hot summer day… there is always, always something to be thankful for.
And that thankfulness is where true happiness is found.