Thankfulness Project: Wrap Up

Can you see the holiness in those things you take for granted -- a paved road or a washing machine?  If you concentrate on finding what is good in every situation, you will discover that your life will suddenly be filled with gratitude, a feeling that nurtures the soul.
-Rabbi Harold Kushner


In the last ten days, as I've wondered what I would write about being thankful for if I could get any kind of internet connection or signal from my phone, or as I've taken care of my mom as she was sick, or as I've laid in bed sick myself, my mind has been flooded with possibilities. 

I am not trying to sugar coat things or put on a brave face.  I'm being honest.  There was only one day when being thankful didn't come natural or easy.  I don't remember which day that was.  But as I lay in bed exhausted I thought, "I don't even know what I would write about.  I don't even feel thankful."  I had to think for several minutes to come up with something.  That day feeling thankful was a chore.  And what I came up with was those things we are always thankful for. Platitudes.  Like God and His promises.  That was about all the thankfulness I could muster that day.

I said before that I wouldn't have taken this project on if I would have known everything that would happen this month.  Not because it was hard to feel thankful, but because it was hard to find the time and clear-headedness to write about it in the midst of it all.

But in these final ten days of November, I've felt especially thankful and at peace that my grandparents are back together again. 

You should know my grandparents raised me.  My grandmother cared for me straight from the hospital where I was born until I was 16 and she went into the hospital herself unable to care for me or others any longer.  She taught me and raised me up.  She gave me advice that I follow still today.  She believed in me and pushed me and guided me and corrected me and loved me like no one else.

Losing her is still the hardest thing I have ever been through.

And since the day she died there has been a void in my life.  She passed away 13 years ago, on November 27th.  I have been able to adjust to minutes and hours and days and weeks and months and years without her.  But never Thanksgiving.  She left and it became a restless holiday for me.

I loved and cherished my grandfather.  I was sad to lose him.  I miss him.  I started missing him before he even actually breathed his last breath.  I started missing him the day he couldn't talk back to me when I called him on the phone.  And I thought that losing him would feel like losing my grandmother all over again.

But it didn't.  It felt like they were finally back together again.  It felt peaceful.  It felt like a wrong in the world had been righted.  And while I couldn't sit at the feet of these precious grandparents I loved, I knew they were together.  As they should be.  I knew that when I would see them again, it would be both of them together.  As it should be.  And more than anything, I was more thankful than I can express for them to finally be with one another again.  The world knocked off kilter by her death was balanced out again.

And for the first time since I've been without granny, Thanksgiving didn't feel horrible.  I imagined their Thanksgiving reunion in paradise and I was thankful to be able to enjoy the day and enjoy the time.  I was thankful to just relax and not feel like everything was all wrong and there was nothing I could do to fix it.

In these last days of November, I've felt thankful for my mom and for my husband.  For my brother.  For family and for friends.  For sweet, sweet memories.  For grace and mercy.  For the Lord's provision.  I've been thankful for rest and relaxation.  For comfortable beds and comfortable chairs and comfortable clothes.  For medicine.  For understanding, sympathetic co-workers.  For food and for medicine.  For Coca-Cola.  For turkey.  For words and books and writing.  For snow and for rain and for sunshine.  For transportation and phones and texts.  For access to technology and no access to technology.  For air to breathe.  For cabins and vacations and seclusion.  For hot tubs.  For prayer.  For a break from responsibility and people who understand that I had to let the ball drop and will come back sometime later to pick it up again.  I'm thankful they're holding it for me until I feel ready.

I feel exposed and vulnerable without my grandfather.  I feel lost without his advice and guidance.  I've never spent more time in my life with anyone than I spent with him.  I could write a whole post about everything that frustrated me about him, but I could write even more about how smart and resourceful he was.  How he worked for my 29 years fixing all the broken things in my life.  I'm thankful for him and all that he was in my life.  And I'm thankful to know that he is finally getting to rest now. 

I'm thankful for his influence, and my granny's.  I'm thankful they gave me the strength to live life without them.  And I'm thankful for all the blessings from them and from the Lord.  I am thankful.  More thankful than words or blogs or actions. 

My mom said we should thank the Lord 800 million times.  I told her I probably wouldn't be able to do that.  She said I should ask for help then because she wasn't sure even that would be enough.  So as I feel thankful -- as we feel thankful -- I hope you can join us too.  And thanks.

Thankfulness Project: Day 20

There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance...

Ecclesiastes 3: 1-4

I am thankful today for time to mourn and time to rejoice.  Right now that is all I have time for.

Thankfulness Project: Day 19

O death, where is your victory?  O death, where is your sting?
1 Corinthians 15:55
If I knew that I'd be losing my grandfather, I probably wouldn't have tackled a thankfulness project.  But I did, and I did feel thankful today.  Though it won't be easy to talk about.
When the man you've spent more time with in your life than any one else faces his death, you can't help but be filled with thankfulness for the One who already conquered death and the grave.
So that when death gave its all to defeat my Pop, it lost miserably.  In trying to destroy him, his life just got better.
Which makes me thankful -- today especially -- for Jesus.  There is so much to be thankful for about Jesus.  You can understand why I'm focusing today on  his making a way for all of us to live eternally with no pain and no sorrow. 
Thank You, Jesus, for all your many blessings.  Thank you for saving my Pop.

Thankfulness Project: Day 18

"Help" is a prayer that is always answered.  It doesn't matter how you pray -- with your head bowed in silence, or crying out in grief, or dancing.  Churches are good for prayer, but so are garages and cars and mountains and showers and dance floors.
-Anne Lamott

I'm feeling especially thankful for prayers these days.  Sometimes its easy to forget the amazing privilege of having a direct line to God. 

When I think of the weight of getting to talk to the creator of the universe I am overwhelmed.

How many kings let you call them directly?  How many kings come to you?  If you're like me, only one.  The greatest one.

And I'm thankful for answered prayers.  Those moments when God responds directly, immediately, compassionately, wonderfully.  A reflection of my impatience, I'm especially thankful for those prompt responses when they come.

But even if the answer comes slowly, or differently, or I end up missing it, I'm still thankful for prayer.  I'm still thankful for a God who cares enough to listen.

Thankfulness Project: Day 17

The sound of laughter has always seemed to me the most civilized music in the universe.
-Peter Ustinov

As always... well, almost always, I was thankful for a lot of things today.

By the time I made it back home and to an internet connection tonight, I was drained and tired and ready for bed.  Not for writing.

I began reading about thankfulness and thinking about what I would write about when out of the corner of my eye I saw my brother come down the hall. 

I was excited for him to come home with me because he and I share -- among many things -- a love for Christmas and Christmas decorations.  He hadn't seen this year's décor yet.  Including a sprig of mistletoe.

We never hung mistletoe growing up, but it has become a fun tradition for Johnie and me.  He is always finding clever ways for us to meet under it.

I was in the kitchen the morning after we put it up this year when I heard Johnie ask, "While I'm in the shower, will you pick out a sweater for me to wear today?"

I turned to head to the bedroom but he remained standing in the hall.  I waited for him to move, but he didn't.  I stepped to the side and he did too.  I stepped to the other side and then I realized why he was acting so strange: "Oh, look.  You just happen to be standing under the mistletoe.  I guess I'll have to kiss you."

Tonight, I saw my brother slow his steps as he neared the end of the hall.  That got my full attention.  And then I watched as he turned and pressed his back against the wall, sliding against it for the last two steps.  All while looking at our mistletoe.  He was taking no chances getting caught under there with only Johnie or me as options for kissing.

And then there was laughter.  Loud and long laughter.  The kind that works better than any other kind of medicine.

I thought about all the other times I've laughed today.  With Johnie.  With church family.  With my mom and the rest of my family.  And with one of my favorite people to laugh with: Bubby. 

I love laughter.  I always have.  It is the most beautiful sound I've ever heard.  And I'm glad it was in the soundtrack of today.

Thankfulness Project: Day 16

Why does no one speak of the cultural advantages of the country?
-Gene Logsdon

Today I'm thankful fer my raisin'. 

I grew up in a small town.  An hour from a Wal-Mart and years from modern society.  Where tree-covered mountains provide the backdrop to a simple life. 

Where you could call the doctor at home if you needed to and pay him with a pie the next time you were in town.  Where you could meet the vet on the side of the road to treat your pup.  Where the fan belt you need for your car will be left outside the parts store since you can't make it by before closing.  You'll settle the bill next week.

Where neighbors still share eggs and sugar and burdens and birthday presents.  They take 'love thy neighbor' to its literal extreme.

I've seen that especially in this time with my grandfather.  A steady stream of neighbors, family, friends who drop in with food and hugs and questions about what else we need.

I grew up in a place far from perfect, but it was there I received a firm foundation.  It was there that I learned about community and relationships and treating people well. 

I've moved from there and left behind much of what filled my life as a child.  I've seen big cities and little ones from one coast to the other.  No, it wasn't perfect and wouldn't be in the running for many 'best ever' awards.  But it was good for me.  And I'm thankful -- and proud -- to be from the foothills.

Thankfulness Project: Day 15

And what's romance?  Usually, a nice little tale where you have everything as you like it, where rain never wets your jacket and gnats never bite your nose, and it's always daisy-time.
-D.H. Lawrence

I say this somewhat sheepishly: I'm thankful the gnats aren't biting my nose today.  I don't have everything just as I would like it, but at least there are no gnats.

This summer gnats descended on Frankfort.  That actually was a comfort to realize because at first I just thought they had descended on my house.  But they were at Johnie's work and at mine.  They were outside where ever we would go.  In restaurants and stores. EV-ER-Y-WHERE.

When we drove far enough to be away from the gnats, I was thankful just to have a break from them.  Seriously.  As I was packing for our D.C. trip last month, I was thinking about how glad I would be to have a few days away from them.

I've never found gnats to be much of a nuisance before.  They're tiny and despite the quote I used, I've never actually been bitten by one.  As far as bugs go, I've always thought gnats were pretty harmless.

When they came this summer I wasn't bothered at first.  I'd swat them away and go on with my day.  But they kept swarming.  They were in the kitchen, of course, but also in the living room.  Then I started seeing them in the bathroom and the bedroom. 

Little black spots would come into my vision and I would be equal parts relieved and frustrated when I realized it was just. more. GNATS.



Did you know these things were so smart and organized,
they send out newsletters?

I felt a twinge of guilt at exerting my human dominance over such tiny little creatures, but a couple weeks in and I was fed up. 

I waged war.

I cleansed my kitchen of all open food.  The refrigerator was purged.  Refuge wasn't even allowed in the trash can.  I scrubbed down my countertops.  No free rides at the Rose-Karr house, gnats.

But they survived.

So I took to the internet and mixed up a soap and vinegar concoction to sit out for them to drink and die.

It didn't seem to phase them.

We bleached every solid surface and poured boiling water -- and more bleach -- down the drain.

Still, they survived.

We kept our drains plugged up and set out a pickle juice poison next to the vinegar one, in case these were picky gnats.

They kept swarming.

By this point I started to feel embarrassed.  Was I so filthy that gnats just followed me?  Would there be no getting rid of them?  Would we just always have gnats?

I even started to worry about our mental health.  I actually felt a hint of sick pleasure (though mostly I just felt sick) in wiping away a small group of them that had piled up in the corner of the refrigerator.  For all the torment they gave me, at least some of them froze to death.  Johnie started taking gnat-killing breaks throughout the day.  I didn't know whether to question his emotional stability or just celebrate that the gnat-to-human ratio was leveling.

We sprayed all-natural bug spray.  I set out herbs known to repel bugs.

They lingered still.

I seriously wondered if we would ever be without them.

And then gloriously!

This morning at the kitchen sink, I saw the cup of anti-gnat juice.  None of them were drinking.  None of them were in the sink.  None were around the food.  Or in the kitchen.  None of them were in the house at all.  There were no gnats.  And its been that way for a few days.

The gnat plague of 2013 is over.  And I survived.

The thankfulness that I try to capture in these daily blog posts bubbled over in my soul.  And was such a fitting parallel to my very first moments of the day:

Still in bed this morning in the dark -- before I made it to the gnat-free sink -- my thoughts turned anxious and I started to feel heavy with burden. 

What if this doesn't get better?  What if I get sicker?  What if this symptom or that symptom comes?  What if my grandfather dies?  What if work gets crazy?  What if I just can't handle everything?  What if there isn't enough time and energy to do all the things I need or want to do?  What if we miss this or that thing?  What if we have to cancel our anniversary trip?  What if everything falls apart financially?  What if everything just plain falls apart?  What if this doesn't work?  And that doesn't work? What if?  Then what?

I took some deep breaths and I prayed. 

I've learned from experience that it's best to let the what-ifs go.  They usually don't happen anyway. 

This is only a season.  And it's never as bad as I imagine it could be.  I will get through and things will get better. 

I decided then that these would be my words for the day.  This would be my antidote to anxiety.

Except for later I added: Just like the gnats.