Thanksgiving
is my favorite day of the year. I love
it more than Christmas. More than the
last day of winter. More than the first
day of vacation. As a
gluten/starch-free vegan, the feast isn't the reason for my adoration,
although I do appreciate a yummy, crust-less pumpkin pie now and again.
For more than a decade, I've spent Thanksgiving in peaceful recognition for what the past
year has brought into my life. And I've
learned the incredibly subtle difference between gratitude and appreciation. In the past I've often said how thankful I am
to have a warm house, healthy food to eat, and work that I love. Now I see that gratitude as a response to how
I've felt when those things were missing.
Because of
financial issues, logistical circumstances, and just plain living life, I've
had to endure long periods when I didn't get what I want. When I set my thermostat at fifty-eight
degrees to avoid a huge gas bill. When I
ate Ramen noodles and ketchup for dinner night after night after night. When I slogged through long hours working in
jobs that sapped my spirit and paid me a pittance.
And during those times, I bitterly complained about it all.
This month, as
I prepare the manuscript of my memoir for publication in 2014, I've revisited many of
those years. Actually, the majority of
my adult life was spent in limbo waiting for that which had not yet
arrived. A husband. A child.
A publishing contract. In writing
my life's story thus far, it's clear to me that for the past couple of years
I've truly been able to appreciate and honor the enormous spaces in not having any of those things. And
I've also come to understand that appreciation is a state of mind that accepts
things as they are, not a fear of losing something I have or grasping for
something I don't.
Last January
I put an empty jar on my desk. Whenever
something happened that touched my heart or lifted my spirit, I wrote it down
and put it into the jar, knowing I'd open it when Thanksgiving week arrived. Now as I sift
through the notes, I see how my practice of appreciation is overflowing into
every aspect of my life:
"A new
free bike!"
"Satish fell asleep in my arms...so cute!"
"Forest
comes home from the hospital!"
"Blessed
to have a new bed."
"Waking
up and feeling like I'm finally at home."
It's curious
to recognize that I've written about every one of these blessings here in Open
Road . What
a joy and a grace to be able to share my abundance with you all. More than ever, this Thanksgiving, I'll meditate on the last
few lines I wrote in the introduction to OPEN ROAD: a life worth waiting for:
"Occasionally,
I remember my life twenty years ago when I first began to unravel who I thought
I was supposed to be in search of someone for whom I had no tangible
roadmap. And in remembering, I remain
thankful for all the things I had once desperately wanted, yet never received.
What a
revelation to learn that empty hands are fertile soil for growing a life worth
waiting for."
May you and yours have a blessed,
peaceful celebration.
