When I Don’t Feel Thankful
November rumbled round, and in the midst of a stressful season at work, Thanksgiving crept up on me in a way it hasn’t before. Menu planning was pushed later and later, until suddenly it’s this week, and I’m caught by surprise.
In a month that was characterised more by deadlines and drive-throughs than by reflection and rest, Thanksgiving served as a powerful reminder to slow the heck down; that the world will continue to spin on it’s axis without my involvement.
I am less important than I think.
And that – that helps me to be thankful when I don’t feel thankful.
My heart is heavy: it’s tired, weary. Another November passes, another year without my friends. There are so many things to rail against God for, to yell and throw temper tantrums for. And God knows, I’ve done that more often that I’d care to admit.
But there is also a glimmer of hope.
There is the candle-lit dinner with friends. An extravagant array of food and wine. It’s a conscious choice to say, no matter how the rest of my life looks at this point in time, I will be thankful. I am alive, and I will be grateful.
I look around the table, and I remember all that I have.
Friendships that withstand the tests of time and trial.
Spoons clink as we dig in for seconds on the pecan pie, and
I
am
grateful.
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