Counting Blessings

I think our sense of gratitude is like a muscle we must build and flex. It must be fed, comforted, searched for and defined. I used to be diligent about keeping a list of things I was grateful for, things that grace my life. I've kept this list for years. Lost the list completely once and began again. I've been slacking in keeping up with that recently.

Isn't that the perfect analogy for life. You start, you stop, you win, you lose, you begin again. You count your blessings.

Where are you in life? How are you flexing the muscles of faith and gratitude? Is your heart full of joy, angst, worry, anticipation?

I was just in the kitchen preparing for Thanksgiving. I was chopping onions, and celery. Measuring spices for stuffing. I've been doing these same tasks since I was old enough to work beside my mom in the kitchen. Now for years, I've been the mom in the kitchen. I've sliced and diced with parents, siblings, relatives, friends, and my children. Other times it's been a solitary labor of love while waiting for my favorite people to arrive. But it's tradition, it's what we do to break bread and give thanks for the life we have, the people we love.

I get that we can quickly, almost thoughtlessly come up with things we are thankful for. I understand sometimes we have to dig deep for even one thing to be grateful for. I know sometimes the worst of circumstances bring infinite blessings. I've experienced divine intervention and happy endings. 

So, I give thanks today for the feelings, the words, the love, the loss and the experiences that life so generously offers me. I'll pause to remember to write on my list and share it. It hangs in my kitchen, anyone who visits is welcome to add to it. One of my son's adds to the list whenever he's home. I treasure his words. I need to give thanks for that. I give thanks for you too. For the ways our paths crossed, and how our lives are woven together.