I didn’t sleep well last night. Some kind of heartburn, that luckily I experience only rarely, kept jolting me awake, and water, an extra pillow, and antacid pills couldn’t keep it still. So it is sometimes, these unexpected little annoyances of life, and today I am tired, and a bit frustrated with political machinations at school, so that it is abundantly clear what a good day it would be to lie on the sofa and knit and drink tea and write a little bit. I’ll take an hour. I’ll make this post. Then I’ll get to the work that’s needed for tomorrow.
This week at school, the North American students hosted a Thanksgiving celebration for the other students, strategically placed between Canadian and American national celebrations. Chicken (we couldn’t find turkeys here), stuffing, and apple pie made for a delicious bit of cultural sharing. We asked other students to bring a dish to share, and so there were plenty of potato chips. But the real heart of the evening was the thankful-fors: fifty students in a circle, one after the next, giving conscious voice to gratitude that so often is drowned out in the sea of stressed complaint. And even if many of those thankful-fors were trite or predictable or without deep thought, the purposed swell of thankfulness grew rich and palpable and freeing. It was a moment to remember.
Perhaps, for me, on this cold morning, into which I’ve been thrust without enough sleep and with the yawning of another long-push week before me, perhaps some gratitude could not go amiss, as it cannot go amiss for any of us, I suppose. It’s a good exercise, I think, for any morning.
I breathe. I shut my eyes. I conjure in my mind some of these things for which I am thankful now. I don’t want to list them today, here, in writing, because I think I’d rather do that two weeks from now, nearer the day we traditionally celebrate Thanksgiving in the US. But I’ll sit with them for a few minutes now. Perhaps you’ll join me.
Thanks for stopping by. I wish you a beautiful Sunday.
With love and gratitude,