The door slams, over and over as John rushes in and out, trying to make our world a better place. In each slam, I hear the energy he pours – seemingly without end – into this farm. He makes lists, tries to meet the needs of so many creatures (both two and four legged), and sighs when I add something else to his never ending list of chores and tasks.
He is off tonight to the mall, leaving the quiet & peace of the farm to drive through holiday traffic to get something we need. Though tonight he will drive several hours alone, I can see, as easily as if I were there, his handsome profile lit by oncoming car lights, see him reach for the radio for “tunes” to quiet his mind. For the first time today, he will have a few hours to himself – no one asking him for anything. I wish that I could give him more, if only to say “thank you” for all that he gives.
And I sit, alone but for a small cat at my feet. A few lazy flies circle the light, and the smell of warm pumpkin pie fills the air. The dogs are barking in the yard, answering the coyotes who are singing up on the ridge. Distantly, I can hear the radio in the kitchen, left playing when I finished baking the holiday pies.
What am I thankful for this Thanksgiving? Oh, it’s a very long list, and it begins and ends with this: I am grateful for my life and all that it contains. I am thankful for the unexpected and unsought blessings of love that have showered down on me throughout my life, and this year. I am thankful for the opportunity to have done something good for the world of dogs and the people who love them. Most of all, I am thankful to simply be who I am, and where I am. It is no small thing to be content with who you are and where you are in the world.
There’s a splendid scene in the play/movie “The Effects of Gamma Rays on Man-in-the-Moon Marigolds” where the drunken mother arrives far too late to see her daughter receive a prize in the Science Fair. She knows that once again, she has disappointed and hurt her daughter. She stands weaving drunkenly while struggling to find some appropriate words to perhaps undo or at least mitigate yet another failure, and to also express her great pride in her daughter’s accomplishments. But all she can say is this, “My heart is full. My heart is full.” It is a line I resort to when words fail me, when I’m not quite sure that there even are words to express what I mean.
So, this Thanksgiving, all I really can say is “My heart is full. Myheart is full.”
May your hearts also be full as you reflect upon the magic & goodness in your life – it’s always there if you take the time to look.