This is Tuesday, so I am joining in the Thankful Tuesday party over at Micha Boyett’s blog, Mama: Monk . These thankful Tuesdays are the just the kind of weekly discipline I sometimes need to shake me out of the cave I occasionally hole myself up in. Like the discipline of meditation, the discipline of being thoughtfully thankful has its own sweet blooming, no matter what you plant or subsequently feed it. So , having emerged from under the dark duvet and having secured the flyable items that are potential storm projectiles, I am sitting down here to focus on the graces and blessings that I think I missed being thankful for this last week. Mea culpa. Alleluia. We are indeed an Easter people!
And I am grateful especially for:
- Our local Down syndrome association, which hosts the most amazing annual general meeting and dinner dance where everyone is full fed (for free, both cash and gluten) and loudly served the hottest dance music that keeps everyone—from the tinnies to the grandparents—dancing.
- The fulsome tribe of DS mamas and their wry edgy humour and bear-like love of their babies, even when they are babies no more and are exploring where their raging hormones are leading them. These mamas who laugh and share and snark and gently correct the clan of adolescents at the table, while nodding vigorously in recognition at some tale of poor or sketchy mothering. Who, in nodding, give new breath and energy to the going forward, to trying new strategies, and most importantly to laughing at our own foibles.
- Parents of the young dancers taking Kids Propeller dance who come to Jessie’s defense when she arrives late and we complain, a bit, just a bit, about her lack of responsibility. They all, each and every one of them, share small stories, bits of her teaching that we never get to see or hear about, that demonstrate her care and growth in that role. The ways their children relate to and love Jessie. The ways that she encourages this care. May all adolescents have such defenders and fans as they separate from their parents.
- My friend CG, who drags me out to small town Ontario to eat pulled pork in Irish pubs and sit in old leather-backed movie theatre chairs in a small theatre with an even smaller audience to listen to the compelling and richly plaintive voice of Lyn Miles singing sad coal mining and forlorn love songs. My friend who drives through rain with me and listens to me rant and whine and is still game for a conversation about God and churches and Greek philosophers and vegetarian cuisine. Who will read my blog and email me offering home and hearth and a place to work while the workers work on our house, complete with delicious dinner, including dessert and maybe even candlelight if the power goes out. Who also throws in reassurance that my daughter will in fact be fine, will live a good life, and we will get to see that sooner than we think . . . and so she offers me comfort in all the broken bits and places that need a bit of tenderness. So I am immensely grateful for my tenderizing friend, CG.
That, I realize, is a lot to be grateful for, and more than reason enough to crawl out from under the duvet. So. What are you thankful for?