I’m thankful for spit in the cookie batter. While I don’t normally enjoy such an inclusion, I’m newly aware that I wasn’t alone in the mixing and stirring or the licking of the bowl but rather had the help of little fingers and hands.
I’m thankful for dusty paw prints on the hardwood floor. No, the floor is certainly far from pristine clean, but the prints remind me that while one of our two enormous dogs has now departed, the other continues to offer faithful heaps of joy and love.
I’m thankful for dishes in the sink. Sure, it’d be much nicer if they were rinsed and placed in the dishwasher, but their presence tells me that others feel comfortable in this home, rummaging through the cabinets and fridge, eating and running and … returning for more.
I’m thankful for passenger seats. While I like the control of driving myself about on errands, there are so very many moments when I’m grateful for the freedom to let someone else cart me about so I can lean back and gaze out the window.
I’m thankful for my phone binging in texts. No, my kids don’t often call me and chat. But they speak to me still. The bings and tings of their texts, filled with emojis and gifs, link their lives with mine on a 3×5 screen.
I’m thankful for yoga pants, even though I rarely do yoga. In their comfort, I can play with my grandsons and walk my dog and sit at my desk and watch my Broncos knowing that I’m dressed just right for such activities.
I’m thankful for writing deadlines. Oh, I dream of a clean to-do list someday, but I realize that ongoing deadlines prompt me to return to the computer to ponder what God is allowing in my everyday and then to take the time to put these accountings into words for myself and for others who might read them.
I’m thankful for you, friend, reading along with my musings and nudged to notice your own. Together, we take each next step of noticing just how very much we have to be thankful for.
Suggested resource: The Beauty of Broken by Elisa Morgan