Counting Day
One of the pleasures of Christmas decorations is the morning ritual of turning on the lights. I go from place to place in the house flipping switches, touching foot pedals. I turn on the lights of the tree, for the angels, for the nativity. I illuminate the dark corners. There is color, there is warmth, there is happiness. Then I make a single cup of coffee, sit in my easy chair in the morning dark living room, and look at the pools of light. Savory.
Just did it this morning. Now, I’m waiting for Thanksgiving Day to unfold. Not much to do here at the house. I’m going over to friends later. My son will do likewise in another direction. He’s an avid trail rider and there’s a gathering today. It should be an easy, convivial day for both of us and I’m up for that. I’m also up for being thankful because a lot of blessings have flowed my way this year, friendships, travel, music, and nature. And lots of love from almost every direction. Hard to fathom sometimes.
And there’s an interesting word, fathom. It describes the process of understanding, which is nice. I think you have to work at understanding, especially as it comes to blessings, because sometimes they’re easy to miss even though they’re staring you in the face. I know I’ve missed them on occasion, and only belatedly discovered them. Which is why Thanksgiving as a holiday works so well, it encourages us to give thanks, and allows us time to fathom our blessings.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver's Tale