Gratitude Adjustment

Well, I was in a rut.  I bored even me.  Thanks for this, thanks for that, yeah, yeah, yeah.  Boring.  [Am I really complaining that the world is so full of little miracles that I grew tired of liking it?] So I took a little break from writing.  I needed a gratitude adjustment.

Thank you for vacations.

Well, guess what?  Every minute of my I'm-done-with-gratitude time out was filled with [that's right] wonderful little miracles and joys to delight the soul.  Ugh, disgusting.  Let me catch you up on the current season of Love of Life.

Thank you for obscure allusions to a television soap opera that aired on CBS from 1951 to 1980 whose title is surprisingly apropos.  Thank you for Wikipedia searches providing insights into the history of daytime television programming.  Thank you for French words like apropos.

Trust me, it would be so cool if I could finally get this video link to work.

Episode 7,317 [seriously Love of Life aired 7,316 episodes]:  In which public school teacher Denise launches into summer vacation with daily hikes on unexplored trails in familiar parklands, [cue the alliteration] surprising several skittish coyotes and one irascible rattlesnake.

Thank you for Tandy and her remedy for stinging nettle.  Thank you for adjectives.

Episode 7,318:  In which mom Denise drives teenage daughter Lindsey to a Girl Scout camping trip and gets to stay all weekend with a terrific troop of leaders and girls in a lush, creekside campsite at the end of 12.8 miles of pitted dirt road then observes the girls go from annoyed to awed as they hike through a little-known grove of Giant Sequoias.  [Can you say "oldest living thing on earth"?]

Thank you for Ric who volunteered to take my place collecting tickets at the church fundraiser so I didn't have to drive back early.  Thank you for Lindsey wanting me to stay the entire weekend.  Thank you for the 13 teenage girls and 2 adults it takes to circle a Giant Sequoia.

Episode 7,319:  In which patriot Denise celebrates Independence Day with her family in Warner Park, listens to her friend Greg perform on trumpet with the amazing Los Angeles Pierce Symphonic Winds [see photo below], enjoys a fine picnic and fireworks, runs into pals Kristal and Tabitha, and contemplates the awesome accomplishments of our Founding Fathers who set aside their differences to join in a terrible act of treason and create a new nation. [Whew!]

Thank you for the Continental Congress.  Thank you, in particular, for the brave example of the staunch opponents of war and independence who declined to vote or abstained on July 2, 1776 to allow the vote for independence to carry unanimously.  Thank you, also, for author Jeff Shaara and his most excellent Rise to Rebellion (New York: Ballantine Books, 2001), the only book I have bookmarked with margin notes.

Now, here's Greg:

Episode 7,320:  In which naturalist Denise spends four days and nights with rock scrambling daughter Jeannette in the Tuolumne Meadows / Tioga Road region of Yosemite National Park covering roughly 8 miles per day on foot, hiking to and around [and putting feet in] five lakes in three days, hosting a young buck mule deer in our campsite at dinner time, observing a hawk dive headlong at full speed into the meadow and clutch a furry meal in its talons upon landing, watching the sunset on the distant horizon, waiting in the cold for the stars at night, and suffering acrophobic anxiety while Jeannette climbs to the very top of Lembert Dome.

Thank you for cruise control [after 35 years of driving, I've finally figured this out].  Thank you for dead phone batteries and no cellular coverage [there are better things to look at than my phone].  Thank you for beautiful Yosemite [exactly].  Thank you for John Muir and all the people who fought for its protection and preservation.  Thank you for campfires and constellations. 

What's that dot at the top of Lembert Dome?

It's Jeannette.

Episode 7,321:  In which blogger Denise returns home at the end of a six-hour drive from Tuolumne just in time to pick up Lindsey from Dance Camp, puts the camping gear away in a jiffy, enjoys an exquisite hot shower and shampoo, cooks dinner for the loving family, sleeps all night long in a real bed beside her wonderful husband, and wakes renewed and ready to write again.

Thank you for everybody who stayed home and off the highways.  Thank you for Edwin Ruud, inventor of the automatic storage water heater in 1889.  Thank you for Drew and Lindsey, who were happy to see us and wanted to see the pictures of our trip.  Thank you for renewal.

Episode 7,322:  In which dull Denise returns to her routine of visiting with good friends, dropping off children at school and work, attending committee meetings at church, preparing for Vacation Bible School, planning for the start of the new school year, and blogging about being thankful for the multitude of gifts with which she has been blessed [sigh].

Thank you for the people and the routines of daily life.  Thank you for the events, marvelous and mundane, that mark the passage of time.  Thank you for Katie and all the volunteers who worked and planned for VBS which begins next week at Northridge United Methodist Church.  

Epilogue:  We get tired, thirsty, and hungry, discouraged, frustrated, and cranky.  [We can't get a video link to function.]  We throw in the towel and storm off.  So, eat something, drink water, get some sleep, forgive yourself, and start again.  Renew, restore, refresh, rebuild, restart.  Take a break, do something else [pray, even].  See something miraculous.  And come back.  You don't have to go far.  Steve and Linda have six Coopers Hawks in their back yard.  Sharon had a bird's nest in the wreath on her front door.  Order shoes online from Zappo's on Sunday night and they'll be at your door on Tuesday [no kidding].  What do you see?  Who do you love?  Life is good.  

Thank you, God.

[The video worked!  It really worked!  Only totally AWESOME!  Woot woot! (dances)]

The Next Big Thing

I haven't posted since Rachel recovered.  Rachel recovering is, to me, this great, glorious, cosmic Tweet by a living, loving God moving with us.  [I almost wrote "moving among us," but I think now that among is almost too remote; among is detached, like strangers at a restaurant; with is connected, he's your date, he's your designated driver.]  How can I follow such a miracle?  What is left to say?  I've been waiting for the next big thing.

Thank you for Twitter, Facebook, blogging, and whatever means at hand to help us be with others, not simply among.

While I was waiting for something next and big, I almost missed the many things constant and small.  Miracles come in all sizes, and most of them, constant and small, go unrecognized.  How closely does my list of miracles resemble yours?

• The tax refund check arrived, despite the mail carrier's error.  A kind neighbor took the time to wedge the misdirected envelope into the intended mailbox.  [Wrinkled, still, money is money.]
• Following the Chorus Concert after school, Bryan, Laura, Francisco, and two of Francisco's friends stayed late to help set up the Science Fair for the next morning.  Together we put up all the tables, displays, experiments, and signs [as if we'd soaked those pennies and planted those lima beans ourselves].
• At Family Math and Literacy Game Night, co-workers Barbara, Aidee, Manny, and even student Genesis stayed after school to help set up all the play stations.  Then teachers and families came back in the evening and enjoyed playing games to help their children stay sharp all summer.  [Multiplication Bingo, anyone?]
• I didn't get a concussion when the huge "Smart Board" (an instructional "chalk" board that sends and receives information to and from your computer) fell over and struck me on the back of the head.  I fell/dove to the ground and a nearby table prevented the falling board from landing atop me.  I heard it hit from inside my head.  All noise, some pain, and no damage [that I can recall, anyway].
• I met all my deadlines at work.  When most teachers and all students are celebrating the approaching end of the school year, I am usually stressed and depressed under the pressure of grading, portfolios, report cards, updating student cumulative records, packing, sorting, and cleaning.  I have always been the last one to leave on the last possible day with things feeling still unfinished.  But not this year.  
• And while I'm on the subject of the end of school, Bryan, who could've been packing his own classroom, instead brought in a gallon of paint and a brush and retouched the peeling paint on all the closets in my classroom.  [I know, right? Wow.]
• Lindsey got elected as Treasurer of her Senior Girl Scout Troop.  It's a good thing when your teenage daughter seeks more responsibility for things that matter.  Need I explain how a parent sweats things like elections?
• Our Pastor isn't being reassigned.  This is a Methodist thing.  Our method, apparently, is to rotate the pastors like a great country dance:  when the music stops, we change partners.  We get to keep dancing with Steve, who is an excellent leader on the dance floor, btw.
• My husband conceded that he likes my new short hair cut better than when my hair is long.  He has always thought he liked it longer best, despite the fact that it was very short when he met me and fell in love with me over 25 years ago.  Now he admits he likes it short best.  [Yay, because so do I, so now we can both like my hair.]
• Fifty adults, youth, and children attended our picnic at the lake on Saturday.  We ate, played Frisbee and Hula Hoop [trademark police?], romped in the water, and relaxed in the shade.  Children appeared out of nowhere to play with the parachute and balls [if it weren't so cute, it would've been creepy the way they advanced mesmerized].  And Katie did the grocery shopping.
• Date night.  My husband still rocks.  We attended a concert with great music [and incredible musicianship] by Cheap Trick and Pat Benatar & Neil Giraldo.  Plus, the heated, angry interaction between the two drunk couples in front of us de-escalated before coming to blows.  [It's always nice when you don't have to call the police.]

I understand my list of miracles reads in part like a standard to-do list, mundane and mind-numbingly boring to anyone but me.  Check your own list.  How many of those tasks did you cross off?  Each check mark is another reason to give thanks.  Moreover, who helped you?  [Bryan, probably, if you know Bryan] Angels.  Thank God for them.  

Thank you for angels disguised as friends and coworkers who help.  Thank you for mesmerizing parachute games and kids squealing with laughter.  Thank you for emergencies avoided and successes achieved.  Thank you for work and play.

Is this where I tie up loose ends and close with a lesson learned?  Okay, well, stop waiting for the next big thing.  Don't spend your life like a morning at the Rose Parade on New Year's Day.  In anticipation of the most dazzling float still half a block away, you neglected to enjoy the music played by that high school band.  AND, by the way, you didn't see those 100 teenagers who spent months practicing those songs and working fundraisers to make this the very best day of their lives so far.  Now that was something worth noticing.  

Thank you for high school bands, even the ones with the ill-fitting pants and tilting hats with chinstraps.

You should still ooh and ahh when the floats come along; they are indeed awesome and beautiful, and they represent the work of countless volunteers [including many Girl Scouts and troop leaders I know].  Did my metaphor go awry?  Whatever.  Celebrate the big things, but don't forget to celebrate the everyday little things in between.  If we spent more time giving thanks for these tiny miracles, then every day would become the new very best day of our lives so far.  

Thank you, angels, for all your help with all my little projects and tasks.  Thank you, God, for the next big miracle and for all the daily miracles.  Thank you for the hearts and minds with which to recognize those little miracles as they go marching by.

Rachel Recovered

I've been praying for Rachel. A LOT.

Rachel is my daughter's best friend.  They met in high school.  Rachel is 22 years old.  She's a ballerina and an honor student at UCLA.  She is bright and charming, and I love that over the years and through long separations away at college, Rachel and Jeannette have remained close even after other friends have drifted apart.

Thank you for young women with great promise.

Rachel has spent much time at our house, and we love her joyful spirit and sense of humor.  Her own family, however, is very protective of their privacy and ever more so of their only daughter.  It is bittersweet for most parents to balance between keeping your children safe and preparing them for adult life on their own.  We celebrate their achievements and independence even as we miss their needing us.    For Rachel it was clear that her natural and deserved steps toward independence were hard fought.

Thank you for strength and perseverance in adversity.

She wanted the full college experience.  Several of her friends from high school had gone away to college and taken dorms and campus apartments when she was attending local community college part time.  She studied hard and worked hard and earned her place at one of the top universities in the nation.  She worked several jobs and saved her money, and she was ready to move closer to campus with her friends.  And while this sounds like absolutely perfectly normal American success story stuff, her success wasn't something her family could easily bear.

Thank you for normal American success stories in a world where little is normal.

Rachel made a normal, co-ed life for herself in Westwood for a little while.  Two weeks ago, this vibrant, lively young woman collapsed following a boat trip with her class and suffered a seizure.  Someone dialed 911, and Rachel was whisked away.  Her roommates and friends didn't hear from her.  She didn't attend classes.  She didn't answer her phone.  So Jeannette told me she was going to drive over to Rachel's parents' house to find her.  Jeannette was confident that Rachel was okay and resting at her parents' house, and I was inclined to let her go.  But I changed my mind and decided I needed to go with her.

Thank you for changing our minds.

We met Rachel's dad that day for the first time.  Jeannette knocked at the door and identified herself.  Then out came a father who'd spent the previous days at his daughter's hospital bedside in ICU.  His heart was breaking.  We heard unconscious, breathing tubes, responding to stimulus, some movement in her feet.  He said he felt glad when the doctors said they could expect her to remain in the hospital for a couple months slowly recovering, because it meant she would still be here in a couple months.  Jeannette and I cried with him.  I promised to pray for them all.  Private still, no visitors, no calls, please.

Thank you for unexpected visits with people who need them.

I've been praying ever since.  For Rachel.  For her parents.  For Jeannette.  I've seen my good friends Lacey and Matthew have to tell their daughter one of her best friends had died in an accident.  So many broken hearts!  How could Jeannette bear it?

Thank you for prayer.

Jeannette and her friends were asked to stay away and to respect the family's privacy at this time.  It's understandable.  But the girls couldn't help but feel that Rachel would want them even if the parents didn't.  You can't keep girlfriends away, it seems.  They are a persistent bunch and a positive force with a special bond [and Facebook].  A week later, it was time to "bust a mission."  The timing was perfect.  Rachel's mother had just stepped away.  One of the girls got through and talked to Rachel.  And Rachel woke up.

Thank you for perfect timing and the voices of friends.

How typical it is for a beautiful college co-ed to sit up in bed talking to her friends on the phone.  How wonderfully, perfectly, miraculously typical!  Now that Rachel's talking, she has asked for her friends.  And no one can keep them away.  Rachel's doctors are surprised by the huge and unexpected progress she's made in such a short time.  The girls aren't surprised; they never doubted the success of their mission.  I shouldn't be surprised; I never doubted the power of prayer.

Thank you, God, for the love of friends, for your healing spirit, and for the gift of Rachel.

[Hey, so Rachel's parents are still really private, so don't tell them about his blog, okay?  Cool.]

Feeling Grateful and Guilty

Why, me, Lord?  What did I do to deserve this?

Familiar words, familiar sentiment.  Usually one lets slip these words when overwhelmed with woes and troubles.  Sadness and trouble come to every life, deserving [whatever that means] or not.  Children fall ill, jobs are lost, bills come due.  We obey the law, we try to do what we think is right, we try to love others as Jesus loves us, and still $#!+ happens.  Bad things happen to good people [which, it seems, is easier to accept than when good things happen to bad people--we hate that].

Thank you for Justice.  Thank you for forgiving us when we humans think we know how to judge what is Just.

Have you ever wondered "Why me, Lord?" in the midst of great joy?  I have a wonderful husband and strong marriage.  I have two beautiful, smart, healthy daughters.  I work at a job I was called to do.  My knee stopped hurting.  I have awesome friends [oops, is awesome better than wonderful? sorry, Drew].  God loves me.  I am thankful for all these gifts and more.  But

Why, me, Lord?  What did I do to deserve this?

So, imagine you parked the car under a tree because you wanted to keep it cool in the shade, but when you returned to the car, it looked like birds had been taking target practice all day all over your windshield.  Do you have that image in your mind?  [yeah, yuck] Now, take that disgusting car directly through a carwash.  When you get home, your honey-bunch [sweet-cheeks, sugar-lips, insert cutsie nickname of your choice] gives you hugs and kisses and whisks you out for a nice dinner because you got the car washed.  It's like that.  Basking, as you are, in all those hugs and kisses and cheesecake [imaginary dinners come with cheesecake for dessert], you can't help feeling a little guilty.

Thank you for trees and birds, carwashes and cheesecake.

God's Grace is like that!  Like super-amazing vanilla bean cheesecake for getting the car covered in bird poop.  [I'm going to hell for this.]  What the heck, God?  You love even me.  Here's the thing:  I'm not special; I'm about as normal as normal gets, pretty dull stuff.  So, if I'm normal, and there are times when I don't feel lovable, logic holds that everyone else who's normal, too, has times when they don't feel lovable.  Here's Grace:  You don't have to feel lovable to be loved.  Maybe you don't even have to  be lovable to be loved.  How many of us have had to abandon our full grocery cart and leave the store with a two-year old mid-tantrum, loving him still?  It's like that.

Thank you for logic, which gives us the silly notion we have a handle on things.  Thank you for Grace and for really having the handle on things.

So, I feel guilty.  I'm blessed with joys I don't deserve.  I will never deserve.  All I can do is live and love and work and try to be worthy.  I feel guilty.  There are good people in the world who suffer ills daily that they don't deserve.  The "fixer" part of me wants to fix that, but the "helpless" part of me says "I'm just one person!" so the "worrier" part of me frets and then I pray.  I don't have any answers.  Pray.  Praying is the best place to start for answers.  I have no other advice except that the best advice will come to you when you pray.  And when you pray, remember to say "Thanks."

Thank you for the storm before the peace.  Thank you for answers to questions we're afraid to ask.  Thank you for prayer.  Thank you, God, for loving even me.

Call a Meeting

Between my work and church, I am on [counting...] ten committees, no I forgot one, eleven.  Then there are actually two more committees of which I am the only member [yes, that's a thing].  The pastor at our church gave me an award for being "Just a Gal Who Can't Say 'No'" [I am assured that there are no parallels being drawn here between me and the somewhat promiscuous character Ado Annie in "Oklahoma."]

Thank you for Rodgers and Hammerstein.  [If I have already thanked you for Rogers and Hammerstein, well, thanks again.]

We finish our work day, and then we get down to business.  We meet and get things done.  We make decisions.  We make lists.  We divide up tasks and responsibilities.  We celebrate successes and solve problems.  And we do it all in an hour [well, that's the goal, anyway].

Thank you for tangential conversations that are WAY more interesting than the business at hand.  Thank you for getting back to the business at hand.

I mention this here because I'm thankful for the people gathered around those tables praying, laughing, brainstorming, volunteering.  These men and women, unfailingly generous with their energy, experience, creativity, and time, are making a difference.  Some of them work to plan worship celebrations to lift people in faith and bring them into a closer relationship with God.  Some of them strive to lift up children, celebrating and praising their academic successes.  Some of them create opportunities to bring families together in Christian fellowship.  Some seek ways to bring families together to share a joy of learning.   I'm sensing a pattern, here.

Thank you for recognizable patterns of behavior and self awareness.

As much as I like and respect my committee companions, as much as I enjoy a well-planned event, I don't always want to stay after school or jump in my car in the evening and head to a meeting.  Can we change the world without getting off the sofa?  Can we make a difference in our pajamas?  I think this was the question that drove people to improve communications technology.  [Okay, maybe it had something to do with needing to work with people who were far away, but I like to think that they're in their pajamas.]

Thank you for pajamas.  Mmmmm so comfy.  Nice work.

So, here I am at the intersection of lazy and industrious.  And on the corner we find:  the conference call.  Certainly conference calls have been around for years in the business world.  But they're not just for multi-national corporations anymore.  Thanks to internet-based free conference call providers, folks like me can host a conference call and conduct meetings from our sofas in our pajamas [our sofas are not in our pajamas, just to be clear].  So I gave it a try.

Thank you for www.freeconferencecalling.com. [Not a paid endorsement.  Definitely no payment.]

To plan a large luncheon for a Sunday after church, the Family Ministries Team went home.  We kicked off our shoes and put our feet up.  We grabbed a snack.  We got comfy.  We picked up our phones and dialed in.  It was great.  The very novelty of the conference call made the event planning fun.  We were so fired up, we actually planned two events:  a Sunday luncheon and a Saturday picnic.

Thank you for feeling fired up about planning fellowship opportunities.

On some level, it is a superior technological advance years in the making starting with Alexander Graham Bell.  And it is a simple thing, a bunch of friends on a single phone call.  It is a sea change for church committees.  It's akin to wearing flip flops as an acolyte.  [Relax, it's no big deal, at least the kid's in church, right?]  Well, I'm thankful:  for all the genius and invention and work and time and people it took to invent this little thing; for the sofa and the footstool and the tall glass of iced tea; for the caring volunteers who called it in and accomplished just as much, if not more, than we would've in our Sunday best around a table starving for lunch and looking at the clock.

Thank you for ice and tea.  Thank you for kids in church--even in flip flops.  And Alexander Graham Bell [not in flip flops].

What will future meetings look like?  We won't forgo in-person, face-to-face all together meetings altogether.  We like each other too much to stay away [we'll spend true quality time together at that luncheon or picnic that we planned].  I suppose the next phase will include Skype or some such video component.  I'm not a great fan of videoconferencing; the camera on my laptop is always at an unflattering angle, and I have to make sure there is no mess behind me.

Thank you for "The Grammarist" website and its concise explanation of the difference between forego and forgo.

Try conference calling.  Get a bunch of friends or family to dial in and connect in a way you haven't tried before.  Expect some goofy silences while you try to figure out whose turn it is to speak or who just said that.  I'm sure we'll give conference calling another try.  But really, I can't wait to see my friends again.

Thank you, Lacey, Amybeth, Mike, Sally, Katie, Robert, Julie, and Elise for being a great team.  Thank you, God, for Lacey, Amybeth, Mike, Sally, Katie, Robert, Julie, and Elise.

Parents

I am having a hard time writing this one.  I have now tried to write it six [excuse me, seven] times.  I'm ready to scrap it entirely, but I think it's a topic worth the effort.

Parents, you can't live without 'em [literally, 'cause, like, without them you wouldn't be born].  And then you must.

I wore a polka dot dress to my father-in-law's funeral.  My nephew did a magic trick.  People laughed and clapped.  Nobody cried.  "Gar"--the name given to William Woerner years ago by a grandchild struggling to say "Grandpa"--was 93 years of age.  He loved stories and puzzles, riddles and jokes.  He would've been pleased with polka dots and magic tricks.

Thank you for long, happy lives worth celebrating.

How different was my mother's passing over twenty years ago.  She was only 69.  Drew and I had just been married two years, and our first baby was not yet a year old.  I loved Mom so much, and I had still much to learn.  She was ready to go before I was ready to part from her.  There was a long future ahead and so many things I  wanted to share with her.  I was distraught.  [Just a touch to that long-faded bruise and I can feel the raw injury all over again.]

Thank you for exquisite memories of people we love, memories pleasant or painful.

And while I am on the topic of parents, I want to tell you about my friend, Patty, and how she is my hero.  Patty is a woman my age, with one daughter in college and another who will be graduating from high school next June.  She and I were born the same year, got married the same year, have daughters the same age, and share a similar sense of humor.  Her mamma raised her right.  She knows how to love.

Thank you for girlfriends.

So when Patty's mother, still healthy and strong in body, began to lose her short-term memory, forgot she'd taken her medication and so took it again, forgot she put a pot of something on the stove to cook, Patty brought her mom home to stay.  It's a simple thing; I know many people do it.  How I envy her.

Thank you for time to give back to those who have given to us.

Patty's mom asks the same questions, not because she forgot the answer but because she forgot she asked.  Patty smiles and answers again.  Love is greater than frustration; Patty proves this again and again.  Patty is mom and daughter, both, excelling at both.

Thank you for role models of love.

Parents:  We have them, we are them.  We learn from them what to do [perhaps what not to do], and we try to teach our children.  That whole "circle of life" we hear [or sing] about is perpetuated.  What, then, do I say to my friends who've lost a child?  There are not words enough to console nor time enough to heal.  There is only God enough to carry you even as you rail against Him.

Thank you for unfaltering love that carries us into a future we never imagined.

Well, I think I said what I wanted to say about parents.  It only took seven attempts to complete.  [You'd think it would've turned out better or longer for all the trouble it gave me.]  There are some scraps and remnants lying around in the mess left behind.  There are still some thank yous that need saying.

[Drew flew home for a final visit with his father.]
Thank you for safe, fast air travel that brings us to our loved ones.

[Gar had a long life and a brief end.]
Thank you for caring medical personnel.  Thank you for Living Wills and peaceful ends.

[I'm thankful that Drew spent some time with his dad alone, watching an old re-run of the "Lawrence Welk Show," glad that Dad brightened and sang along to the old familiar songs.]
Thank you for favorite songs.

[I'm thankful that my brother-in-law, Keith, and his wonderful wife, Tamara, were there.  So much falls to the family members who make their home close to home.  There is nothing convenient about living or dying, and Keith and Tamara gave so much time and love, work and worry.]
Thank you for family back home.

Thank you, Keith and Tamara, for the care and aid you've given Gar and Jean.  Thank you, Gar, for your generosity of spirit.  Thank you, Patty, for your friendship.  Thank you, Mom, for whatever part of me that is good.  Thank you, God, for Keith, Tamara, Gar, Jean, Patty, and my Mom.

First Quarter Report

Well, the numbers are in for our first quarter, and it doesn't look promising.  

Year of Gratitude 2013 started off gangbusters, with a whopping 23 blog posts in the first month.  That number was reduced over 50% in February, which we attribute to the fact that February has fewer days than January [um, 3].  And in the final month of the first quarter, well our number of blog posts was cut in half yet again.  If this pattern continues, we can expect two posts in April and one final post in May before closing our doors and selling off the office furniture [um, you mean the sofa?]. 

The good news is, I made a bar chart in pink, and pink is pretty.

Thank you for pink.

Now, I have already written two blog posts in April.  Which means that this very post marks a turning point.  We have every confidence that we have passed the vertex and are on the upswing.  But as with swings, friends, it's helpful to have someone there to, well, push.  

Thank you for swings and the wind in your face.  Thank you for the friends who push you higher.

Thank you, Steve, Ric, Tandy, Greg, Katie S., and Micaela for your comments.  Those positive "pushes" have kept this swing in the air.  Thank you, Kathy; your email gave me a boost, too.  Thank you, Drew, for keeping the word of mouth going.  Thank you, readers everywhere, for reading my blog; your growing numbers encourage me to ride [write] on.

Thank you for readers and writers.

Okay, I have a lot of thankful to be if I want to see the bars on my chart show an increase.  I need to get thanking.  There's nothing like a bar chart to tell you what a miserable failure you are.

Thank you for visual aids.

I do have much to be thankful for.  Parents are at the top of my list, but I'm finding the topic difficult to write about.  It's coming.  Also, conference calls.  I'll tell you all about it soon.

In conclusion, the first quarter of the Year of Gratitude 2013 has had its highs and lows.  Just like all swings.  If you find yourself, as I have, slowing down or feeling uninspired, ask your friends for a push or a shove.  No one should swing alone.  Furthermore, if you know someone who has lost momentum and is just dangling, a gentle hand on the back and kind word from you could be all it takes to put things in motion again.

Dear God, thank you for support and encouragement.  Thank you for hugs and handshakes, high-fives and pats on the back.  Thank you for clapping and cheering and all the ways loud and soft that we show our loved ones that we are rooting for them.  Thank you for your Son, our Lord, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit encouraging, loving, and moving us always.