gratitude

Thankful

I am.

So very thankful.

This year, in particular, I’m thankful for my family, both those I live with and will spend tomorrow with, and those who are scattered all around and will be gathering for themselves.

I wrote those three lines on Wednesday, intending to get back on and post pictures for a not-too-wordy Wednesday post. Or, if it was late enough, I would have posted it for Thursday.

And then whatever hit my four-year-old for 12 hours on Wednesday hit me. Much harder.

Thanksgiving Day rolled in with me huddled on a toilet, hugging a bucket. You know the drill (and if you don’t, enjoy that ignorance). I didn’t recover in 12 hours; I haven’t recovered fully in 40, though I can stand without the immediate urge to run to said position on toilet with bucket. I’ve slept most of today, and my dear husband took the kids to his mom’s. I want to get the presents in from his trunk (they’ve been there a week or more) and the dishes done and the laundry caught up…but mostly, I want to sleep.

Needless to say, the turkey’s still in the fridge. We’re cooking it tomorrow.

While confined to the sofa, aching and nauseous, muttering prayers that I get it harder than ever to keep my husband and toddler from getting it (even as I screamed in my mind for it to just! stop! already!), I reflected on being thankful. This post, after all, needed to be written. (A blogger’s priorities…)

I’m thankful for the four-year-old “waiter” who brought me a popsicle and a bowl and a smile. I’m thankful for the two-year-old turkey who squawked about not having Mommy and who blew me kisses (instead of climbing on me). I’m thankful for the cheers Christmas “Vee-cation” brought from the four-year-old and the fact that I could, mostly, laugh along with it. (Yes, I know it’s not really appropriate for a four-year-old to watch. I don’t defend it. We’re all imperfect.) I’m thankful that the two-year-old went to bed without (too much of) a fight. I’m thankful for a homemade get-well card, on my pillow, and a tray full of uneaten food. I’m thankful that, this morning, her first words to me were “Are you feeling better today, Mommy?”

But mostly, I’m thankful for my husband. In the last two days, he’s confirmed his Prince Charming status. Rather than watch football and relax, he juggled kids and served us all. Rather than putter around and stuff himself with turkey, he made Spaghettios for lunch and grilled cheese for dinner (with whatever I requested thrown in whenever he could get me to eat). He talked on the phone, despite the fact that he really hates it, and he updated various family members (calling to wish us a simple Happy Thanksgiving) of my status.

Through the fever (that got a little scary), through the puking (which got a little frightening), through the poopy diapers and the clamoring…he was unswerving.

He’s my hero.

While I’m thankful for so many other things, this Thanksgiving, I’m especially thankful for the guy I married six years ago on Sunday.

This photo (and so many others that are favorites of mine) by Heather

This and That

The end-of-week linkage:

This week’s Catholic Moments features Deborah Schaben and her pilgrimage along the Camino de Santiago de Compostela. Deacon Tom and I combined the Deacon Moment and Mary Moment and discussed my conversion to the Catholic Faith and how Mary was close to me during my journey into the Church. And, big news! We are thrilled to announce our partnership with CatholicMatch.com as they begin sponsoring this podcast. Please support CatholicMatch.com and be sure to enter our current CatholicMatch.com for your opportunity to win a three month membership to the Leading Catholic Singles Community.
Over at CatholicMom.com, you’ll find my latest column: “The Hardest Prayer I Have to Say“

The story of grace on a Friday:

storm-clouds-oly1739_blog My mood matched the gray weather outside. I found myself yelling at the dog and the kids. Things weren’t going well, in my head or during my day.

Sometimes, when this happens, I’m fortunate enough to have a friend or family member who I can pop in on, and my extroverted tendencies will pull me out of my funk. But on that gloomy Friday, my only hope was the grocery store.

I rounded the kids up with a promise of going to McDonald’s and eating inside. It got them moving, but once the car was moving, I promptly forgot the eating inside part of the deal. As I pulled into the drive-thru, my four-year-old called from the back, “Hey! You said we could eat inside!”

It sounded like a good idea in the house, but faced with the parking lot and the image of frowning faces and hyper kids and…well, you get the idea.

But I had promised. And she was excited.

I sighed a big sigh and found a parking spot.

There was a line inside, and it looked like we were going to get Mean Grouchy Person as our cashier. A woman with a boy who looked about four offered to let me go first, but I declined. “No, you were here. Really. We’re in no hurry. Thanks, though.” My kids were being good, but I could feel that my hold on the storm inside me was slight, bound to slip at any moment.

And that’s when it happened. It was just a little thing, hardly worth mentioning.

The tall man in the immaculate suit held out his hand and said, “Your turn,” letting me go next with a graciousness that I hope to someday emulate. Then, after the juggling act of holding the almost-two-year-old while carrying the tray and getting drinks, I found myself in front of him again. As I put the lid on my iced tea, I said something about being in his way, and he replied, “You’re doing a great job, Mom.”

That’s all. Just a few words of encouragement from a stranger in a nice suit at our small town McDonald’s.

Later, as I was trying to keep the toddler seated and the four-year-old eating (she had chosen a seat right beside that mom with the young boy, and had a dialogue going), an older woman, who had been eyeing us, came over and smiled at me. “You have such beautiful children,” she said.

Sitting by that other young mom, who I ended up exchanging phone numbers with (shock!), I couldn’t help but feel the Hand of God. It wasn’t a bolt of lightening or a sign in the sky, but it was encouragement at a point when I really needed it.

And for that, I’m grateful.