Friday, June 04, 2010

Thankfulness abounds...

I love making lists. Long lists. Short lists. Lists of friends. Lists of foods. Lists of things I want to make lists of. I make lists all the time. In my journal. On little strips of paper. On envelopes. In my car. In bed. In church. In my mind.

But the lists I make more of than any other kind are the lists of things I'm grateful for, the ones that remind me of life's greatest and most ordinary pleasures, the ones that remind me of how loved and blessed I am.

On this Friday morning, thankfulness abounds.
On this Friday morning, my heart overflows.
On this Friday morning, I am grateful -

* for the bright morning sun
* that today is our last day of homeschooling for this year
* for the fact that my husband went out to get bagels to celebrate this last day of school
* that it is, indeed, Friday

* for the Italian class I'm taking - it's tough but thoroughly enjoyable
* that "learning more Italian" is on my Mondo Beyondo/ Goddess Goal list of things I wanted to do in 2010 - and I'm doing it!
* for a recent trip to Asheville with the same dear friend that invited me to take this Italian class
* for our day in Asheville: good food, great conversation, decent shopping, (my) loud laughter, and (her) great music, lots of music

* for Muddy Waters coffee brought to us by Lisa
* for the awesome conversations she and I had while drinking this coffee together a few short weeks ago
* for the final pot of it that we will enjoy this morning
* for the chance to order more of it online

* for the joy and challenge and confusion and resilience and power and insanity of friendship
* for the wonder and wackiness and exhaustion of working through relationships of every kind
* for the many friends I have who are willing to do this hard work with me
* for the longevity of the truest and deepest relationships, despite distance, silence, and misunderstanding
* for the advent of cell phones and facebook and email all of which make communication easier - and more complicated because technology cannot reproduce the joy and immediacy of face-to-face conversations
* for the wisdom to know when it's time to say farewell

* for traveling mercies for the many people I know who are and have been on the road
* for the recent visit of a college friend making his way from Los Angeles up to his 25 year college reunion in Massachusetts (He is traveling by car!)
* for his fabulous memory of places we went together, things we said, food we ate, and people we hung out with
* for his tremendous story-telling skills - he had me laughing and groaning and filling in newly excavated details and memories of my own
* for such great memories of my time at Williams, the greatest of which is the day I met the man who would become my husband

* for surprisingly relaxed, informative, genuinely productive meetings
* for the opportunity to speak and be heard and also to listen carefully and kindly to someone else
* for the humility to hear someone else's opinion and the willingness to accept it for what it is, their opinion
* for the freedom that comes from speaking one's mind with steadfast courage
* for the realization that sometimes it is necessary to respectfully disagree

* for having to walk the dog late at night when I don't think it's my turn
* for loading and unloading the dishwasher for the umpteenth time this week
* for the seemingly endless lists of things I have to do and calls I have to make and bills I have to pay but don't want to
* for the shockingly selfish behavior perpetrated by people who claim to love me and care for me
* for the ways in which all of the above force me to take excellent care of myself, to practice forgiveness of others and myself, and to remember how ridiculously human we all are - myself included

* for the many lessons I am learning this year, and last month especially, on friendship, honesty, listening to my own intuition, and the wisdom of holding my tongue
* for my study room floor, the place I return to every morning - just to lie down, think, pray, journal, and, as Ruth Haley Barton so fabulously describes it, "allow the sediment swirling around in my mind to settle"
* for a private, quiet, solitary place to rest, be alone, and find peace
* for the knowledge that I carry that place, that sacred and tranquil space, with me everywhere I go
* for the countless times that I have crawled into that place and taken refuge there, even when I am in class or on a trip or at a tennis match or in the middle of a difficult discussion - I can have and know perfect peace

* for all the rain we have gotten this week
* for the strength of our roof and our walls to protect us in inclement weather
* for the full moon
* for the magnolia bush at the end of my driveway
* for the joy that Maya has and the curiosity she exudes every time she goes outside
* for the wonder of the world, its beauty and complexity and magnificence

* for my gnarled fingers that remember where the computer keys are
* for my dry and flaky feet that carry me everywhere I have ever gone - and back home again
* for my scarred heart that opens wide every day, despite being wounded so many times every day
* for my indomitable soul that gets wider and deeper and thicker and fuller every day


Lisa said...

This post brought me to the verge of tears this morning. It is utterly, astonishingly, simply, truthfully...beautiful.

I love you, dear friend.


Moneesha said...

Hey - congrats on the new look :o)