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.

Happy Thangstgiving

Yeah, that's right:  Thangst-giving.

thangst • giv • ing:  (noun) The expression of gratitude while simultaneously feeling anxious or apprehensive.

We needed this word, so I made it up.  We do this.  We say "thank you" to our doctors who are giving us the worst news.  We say "thank you" to loan officers, auto mechanics, tax auditors, and dentists.  We say it at job interviews and performance reviews.  My students say it when I hand them a test.

Thank you for word play.

"Thangst" springs from our rote, automatic response to receiving something, even if it's bad.  The hope of a Year of Gratitude is that we discover that every moment of our lives is filled with the Lord's blessings, and that's cause to be joyful.  Moreover, letting the people around us know how much joy they bring us spreads the gratitude around.  So, how does thanks-without-joy fit into the year?  Is "thangst" [this is difficult to type with auto-correct fully operational] real?  Does it count?

Thank you for auto-correct and its many incorrect corrections.

Well, I am about to Give Thangst.  In 5 minutes from now, the driver training instructor will drive up and take Lindsey away on her first two-hour behind-the-wheel lesson.  Am I anxious?  Am I apprehensive?  Yes.  [For my readers in France, Germany, Romania, and Russia, that's oui, ja, and da].  And I'm thankful, as well.  I am thankful that someone trained will be responsible for teaching my daughter to drive.  I'm thankful that I will not.

Thank you for driving teachers around the neighborhood.  Thank you for readers around the world.

So, right now, Lindsey is out driving without me.  She is in traffic, not in an empty parking lot.  She is making left turns [I need to stop before my blood pressure goes through the roof].  And I'm here on my sofa, lifting them both up in prayer.  Worried as I am, I am still WAY more sane here than I would be in the passenger seat.  This is some serious thangst.

Thank you for wine.

You will find yourself about to say "thank you" for something you don't really want.  There will be a radiology technician pressing and squeezing you into a mammogram machine.  An insurance representative will explain how much your auto insurance will increase when you add your teenager to the policy.  The pharmacist will hand you a gallon jug of "cleanse" before a colonoscopy.  Go ahead and say "thank you."  In the midst of your angst, give thanks.

Thank you, service workers everywhere, who do the difficult jobs with understanding and empathy.  Thank you, God, for "thangst," the near-compulsion to be thankful in our darkest moments.