Upon the death of a dear friend, I began thinking about the nature of life and death. Death brings my feet back to earth. My mom has often accused me of having my head in the clouds, and I readily admit it.

But losing my friend brought me crashing back down. I’ll admit that I’ve been a bit morbid over the past few weeks, since her passing, because it has come to my attention that we are all going to die. There is no other way out of here.

During the celebration of life for my friend, several people spoke of her generosity, her love of animals, her quirky nature. Many kind things were spoken then, and I thought what a beautiful tribute.

But wouldn’t it be better if we could share those kind thoughts with our friends before they die? Wouldn’t it be better to tell our loved ones how much we appreciate them, while they are still living?

Kind words are like a soothing balm to the soul. No matter what a person is going through, the kind words of friends and loved ones can calm the fires of rage, anger, or fear.

So why wait? I have said, on numerous occasions, that I plan to live to 111. I realize that by then, many of my friends and family will likely be gone. They will have gone on before me, to whatever awaits our physical death.

By then, I wonder who will eulogize me. I wonder who will be present to remember the remarkable life of an old woman, who outlived those who could speak of her life. So, the way I see it, I have two choices. I can live a remarkable life for the following 64 1/3 years, and make sure to make an impression on everyone I meet, hoping that someone will live long enough to remember me.

That is Plan B. That plan involves a lot of work, a lot of community involvement, and making friends of all ages. While that does seem like a fun way to progress through life, it also seems like a lot of work. Of course, I plan to do it anyway. Far be it from me to shy away from hard work and perseverance.

But, I have a better plan. My go to plan is to throw a big party. I’m not waiting until I’m dead to have a party. I’m going to have a party and invite all of my friends, and we will gather and talk about the beauty of life, the beauty of love and friendship. I plan to have that party when I am 55. I’m going to call it my “halfway there” party.

I plan to invite everyone I have ever known, to celebrate the gift of their presence in my life. I want to celebrate while I am still alive and cognizant. I want to thank people for their kindnesses and love, which have buoyed me through my life.

And my point, in all of this, is lets not wait. Let’s not wait to tell the people in our lives how much they mean, how much they bring, and how much they give us.

Tell them while there is still time. Once your friends are gone, it becomes too late to tell them how much you cherish them.

Of course, once people pass on, we can still speak of their goodness and kindness. It brings us together, it unites us when we face death, and it helps us heal from loss.

But so much better, is the idea of telling people of their impact and influence while it can help them.

It is never too late to tell someone how much they mean to you. If you don’t feel like saying it, then write them a note. You could even send an email. But don’t let the kind words go unspoken. Today is the perfect day to tell someone how much they mean.

Namaste, friends

I remember the year I discovered that my parents were indeed Santa Claus. I was about eight, and awoke in the middle of the night to noise in the living room. I crept down the hallway of our trailer to see my bleary-eyed father assembling a dollhouse.

Quietly I snuck back to bed, excitedly anticipating the morning when I could play with my new toy.

Imagine my surprise on Christmas morning, running to the Christmas tree only to see the tag on the dollhouse: “To Mary (my little sister), Love Santa.”

For a moment I was utterly confused. The tag was supposed to say: “To Debbie, Love Dad.”

At first I thought maybe Santa brought my sister a similar dollhouse, so she wouldn’t feel sad. Imagine my dismay as I realized there was no dollhouse for me from my dad. My confusion gave way to understanding as I slowly realized that my dad might actually be Santa. Although the evidence was right before my eyes, I could hardly believe that to be the truth.

Years later, after my dad moved on, I recognized my mom’s handwriting on the tags from Santa and in my teen-aged rebellion I began calling her Sandra-Claus (since her name is Sandra.) She admonished me to keep the secret safe for my little brother, who was still young enough to believe in such things as Christmas magic. But in my jealousy, I told him that our mom was Santa. With the steadfast belief of the young and naïve, he argued until I made him cry.

Years later, as a parent of eight children, I have had similar conversations with my own kids.

One year, when we were dirt poor and had no presents for Christmas, the kids were quite disappointed. I worked as a waitress then, so during the course of the week following Christmas, I saved all my tip money and hit the post-Christmas sales. With only a couple hundred dollars, I was able to fill a box with presents for my kids. On New Years Eve I placed the giant box, loaded with toys, clothes and presents under the tree with a note.

It read: “Dear kids, this box of presents fell off of Santa’s sleigh. It took us a week to find it. Sorry to ruin your Christmas, Love Santa’s Elves.”

When my son discovered the box the next morning he came running into my bedroom yelling, “Mom, Santa Claus is real.”

Their delight and amazement helped me feel better about being a week late with the presents.

Years later, when I was a single mom with six children still in the house, the women in my book club decided to give my kids a Christmas like none they had ever experienced. Little did they know that they would also give me a Christmas like none I had ever experienced.

The ten of them gathered presents for my family throughout the month of December. On Christmas Eve, after my kids had gone to bed, my book club friends and their husbands delivered three car loads of gifts to our home. It filled the tiny living room knee-deep in presents.

When my kids had gone to bed, our tree had a pitiful pile of presents under it. I bought them gifts, just in case the book club thing didn’t work out, and two of the teenagers had jobs, so they had purchased gifts for their younger siblings.

When the children awoke on Christmas morning, the living room was filled with presents.

The little kids were convinced that Santa is real, and as my daughter handed gifts to everyone, I too, believed in the magic of Christmas.

Christmas magic isn’t about large piles of presents. It is the kindness and generosity of people around us,that is truly magical.

We can each keep the magic of Christmas alive in our own lives by sharing love, kindness and forgiveness with those around us. We can offer someone an unexpected gift. We can go back and make things right.

Yes, children, there is a Santa Claus and he lives on in each one of us as we share our lives and love with those around us.

Namaste, friends

I often wonder if my kids ever listen to what I say. My lengthy lectures are usually met with rolled eyes. My angry outbursts bring glares of disapproval. When I try to share life lessons, I find my kids dozing in the back seat, lolled to a peaceful nap by the droning of my voice.

Occasionally, however, I am surprised by the wisdom of my children. In a fit of sorrow, as I cried inconsolably, my daughter patted my back and said, “Don’t worry mom, everything always works out.”

Although I continued crying, I was touched to hear my own words coming back to haunt me. Funny, they seem so much more conciliatory when I’m saying them, rather than receiving them.

My son recently began moving his Lego’s to our garage attic. He had previously used a small empty room in our basement for his Lego City, but found the confines of the room to be too containing. Often I would find myself tripping in the dark over helicopters, fire trucks and villains forgotten in the hallway.

During a momentary epiphany, I realized that we have an entire attic over our garage, mostly unused. There are a few boxes of Christmas decorations and some camping gear, but the bulk of space sits unused.

The older girls decided to make a craft room out of part of the attic, and hauled up tables, stickers, and craft supplies of all sorts. I think they finally realized that I am no help when it comes to things of a crafty nature, so they decided to find a place where I wouldn’t constantly hover over them, asking irrelevant “mom” questions.

Gunnar decided to recreate his Lego City in the attic, and to help him out, I swept all the Lego’s into a box. Much to Gunnar’s dismay, not all of his creations survived the sweeping.

I admit to being a little overly zealous in my endeavor. I am thrilled to get the Lego’s out of the hallway. I may have swept them just a little more vigorously than necessary. Some of the Lego creations may have come apart as I tossed them carelessly into the box. I’m not sure that had anything to do with it, but I am admitting to my part in the destruction of Lego City.

When Gunnar discovered his millions of Lego’s thrown haplessly into a plastic storage bin, he was less than enthusiastic about my help. He stormed out to the garage, insisting that he could get the work done himself.

About an hour later, he came into the kitchen, looking somewhat abashed.

He told me he was pretty mad when he found all his stuff broken. And he tried to devise a pulley system to pull the enormous box of toys up the attic stairs. As he hoisted the box overhead, he watched in alarm as it began to slant. Then, the box crashed to the ground, thousands of Lego’s covering the garage floor.

Gunnar said, “I was so mad when all my stuff broke. Then I thought that everything happens for a reason. So I figured I could make a bigger and better Lego City in the garage.”

With that, he happily bounded back out to the garage to begin the daunting task of sweeping up thousands of Lego’s.

I stood in wonder at the brief conversation. My eleven-year old son just repeated and applied something I preach to my kids every day. And he applied it much more quickly and cheerfully than I ever have.

Everything does happen for a reason. Whether it’s Lego’s crashing to the ground, a car breaking down, or your sweetheart breaking your heart. It is a waste of time to ask ‘why’ something happens. Instead, like Gunnar, ask yourself what you are going to create out of the situation.

You can’t control everything that happens in life. What you can control is your own response to situations. Your response is your responsibility. What can you make of the things that life throws your way?

Try looking for opportunity in the situations facing you. You might just find yourself with the biggest and best Lego City ever created.

Namaste, friends.

I used to love Bugs Bunny. One of my favorites was Marvin the Martian. He had an Acme Ray Gun, with which he would vaporize Daffy Duck. A classic line from Marvin the Martian, “Resistance is futile, earthling.”

During Tuesday’s snowstorm, I thought of those words often. I dressed for spring on Tuesday, in sandals and a skirt. Wrong outfit, wrong day.

Of course, I was too busy to run home and change as the day grew colder and the drizzle turned to snow. I decided to accept the weather and be thankful for the moisture. Resistance to the weather, or to just about anything else, is futile.

It never ceases to amaze me, how people will complain about things that cannot be changed, such as the weather.

Complaining never changed anything for the better. In fact, it never changed anything at all. It is futile to resist those things we can’t change. I would include the weather in that category, as well as the past, other people, and dogs.

You can’t change anything by complaining, and resisting what you can’t change is a waste of time and energy.

I had a friend who used to say, “You can’t teach a pig to sing. You only waste your time and upset the pig.” Complaining about the weather, fretting over the past, or trying to change someone else’s behavior is a lot like trying to teach a pig to sing. You don’t achieve your goal, and you usually irritate somebody.

Why resist things? Life is too short to be frustrated and angry over things that can’t be changed. When I hear people griping about the weather, I wonder what they think it could possibly accomplish. Yes, it is snowing. Yes, it is cold. Yes, we all wish summer would hurry up and get here. Will complaining about the cold make the weather any warmer? Will Mother Nature suddenly say, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize all of you Evanston residents were expecting sunshine and blue skies. Let me fix that.”

No. She will not bend to our will.

Rather than resist what is, I have found it is much easier to accept circumstances and make the best of them. Surrender to what is, rather than resist with futility.

Surrendering has such a negative connotation. It brings to mind weakness, giving up and giving in. In fact, I would argue that the opposite is true. It takes determination and strength to accept the things we cannot change. It takes character to submit our will to something greater. It takes humility and grace to be thankful for the snow, when you really wish to see the sun.

Most of our suffering has its roots in resistance. We suffer as we agonize over mistakes, misspoken words, and things we have done wrong. You can’t change the past. It has already happened. You can accept the past and move on, working to correct the mistakes of yesterday.

We suffer as we worry about what will happen tomorrow. We have no control over tomorrow. Of course, you can make plans, but as the good book says, we are not guaranteed tomorrow. It is foolish to say, “Tomorrow I will do this, and tomorrow I will do that.” We don’t know what will happen tomorrow. Worrying about it, resisting internally, will not change a moment. 

I was having a philosophical discussion with a good friend recently. It was the kind of conversation that could go on for hours, with no real resolution.

He wondered aloud whether we are born with certain characteristics, and whether we should surrender to them or strive to overcome our weaknesses.

I tend to be the kind of person who makes the best of things, whether it’s a job, a relationship, or my personality quirks. I don’t like to focus on my weaknesses, or the weaknesses of others. I try to encourage people to excel at what they are good at.

My friend argued that perhaps we should strive to be better at the things we aren’t good at, work harder at the things that don’t come naturally, and overcome our shortcomings.

While I do strive to improve on areas in my life that could use some work, I really believe we are all blessed with different gifts, talents, and abilities. I like to run, but I’m not very fast, so I’m not going to kill myself trying to be an Olympian. I do try to overcome my innate desire to curl up with a book by interspersing small bursts of activity into my reading time. I’m not much of a cleaner, so I exert great effort in maintaining a presentable abode. But I love to work in my garden and I could do it for hours.

This is the reason fish don’t fly.

We all have things we are good at. Fish are good at swimming. Flying? Not so much. If fish worked hard all day to fly, they would end up exhausted and frustrated. A few might get airborne, but they would be the exception rather than the rule.

We are like fish, trying to fly. We exhaust ourselves trying to force ourselves to complete tasks we hate because we think we should. Rather than try to force yourself to do something you aren’t good at, embrace those talents and gifts you have, and practice them with wild abandon. Birds fly! They love it. They soar high in the air, letting the wind carry them hither and yon. Birds don’t worry about the fish. They don’t worry about swimming, unless they want to. They execute their flight with vigor and enthusiasm. So too, we ought embrace our gifts. Rather than straining and struggling to do things that don’t suit you, discover those things that bring you joy and fulfillment. Do those things. We are here for such a short time. What is the point is trudging through life, dreading the morning. We could dance and sing our way through each day, energized by the things we love.

Of course, the house must still be cleaned. And I will clean it. But I will not let that ruin my day. I will clean it to suit myself, and then I will play in the garden. I will read and write, and sing. Those are the things that make me happy. Dishes must be done, but I don’t have to spend my life washing them. Clothes must be folded. Books must be balanced. The mundane tasks wait for attention. But what I find mundane, others derive great pleasure from doing. Some people clean houses because they like it. For all the tasks, there are people well suited to them, who enjoy the work they do.

Today, I encourage each one of you to find those things that make your heart sing. Look for the things that bring you joy and leave you feeling energized, rather than drained. If you can’t do it for a job, then do it for a moment. Our lives mustn’t be consumed by drudgery. There is fun to be had, if you know where to look.

Fish don’t fly, because their fun is in the water. Discover where your hope lies, then do things to bring you a step closer to that today. A small step, followed by another and another will lead you to the path of your greatest joy and heart’s desire.

You are a bird, so fly high!

Namaste, friends.

I often wonder, what difference does it all make anyway? What difference if we go to work, if we raise our kids right, or go to church? What’s the difference if we are nice, mean, angry or kind? Does it even matter? Does anyone even notice?

Actually, your life makes a huge difference to the people around you.

Each one of us has the power to change the world, even if it’s just our own small corner. To change the world takes only small acts of a large number of people. It is possible to make a difference wherever you find yourself. You can leave your corner of the world better than you found it, and in that way, you make a difference.

Begin by making a positive change in yourself. It doesn’t have to be huge. Just a small positive change will have a ripple effect as it moves outward to those around you. You can decide to eat a healthy breakfast, or to drink one less cup of coffee, or walk an extra lap around the block. Positive change doesn’t have to be huge.

Another way to have a positive impact on those around you is to come from a place of love. When you are tempted to be judgmental, angry or harsh, take just a moment and reflect on the person before you. They are probably doing the best they can, at this moment in their life, just as you are. Take a deep breath and accept that whatever they have said or done has nothing to do with you, and is simply a reflection of where they are. Without saying anything, you can mentally extend feelings of kindness, forgiveness, and acceptance. While you don’t have to like everyone you meet, you can still be kind and accepting of who they really are. In that small way, you will make a difference to them.

Kindness goes a long way toward making a difference and changing the world. If you start with being kind to yourself, the ripple effect will again move outward, affecting those around you. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Simply do your best, and move forward. There is no need to berate or condemn yourself. Be kind and keep moving on.

Another way to make a difference in the world is to just show up. Be where you are. You might not like the place you find yourself, but if you show up to your day with a commitment to doing your best and extending kindness, you can change your world.

Show up every day. Do your best. Eventually you will find that you are changing not only yourself, but those around you as well. Show up and show those around you how much you care about them and about their lives. People want to be noticed. They want a chance to tell you about themselves. Just show up. Sometimes you don’t have to do anything more.

You are making a difference today to every person you meet. Show up and do your best. Extend kindness and forgiveness. Even if no one ever notices, your own life will be greatly enriched. And don’t forget to smile.

Namaste, friends

The New Year is upon us, replete with promises that we will try harder, do better, be more this and less that. How often do we each face the fresh new calendar and promise ourselves that this year will be different?

I know I’ve made my share of resolutions in the past. I usually resolve to lose weight, to get up earlier, to be nicer, to stop swearing, save more money, give more to others…

The list goes on and on. The first week of the New Year usually finds me sleep deprived and hungry, swearing like a sailor and exhausted from the effort of trying to remember everything that I promised myself I would do.

This year, however, will be different.

I am not resolving to be more or less of anything for the entire year. Instead, I am choosing in each moment to be the person that I want to be. As I walk through my day, I will examine my thoughts, words and actions and I will ask myself, “Is this who I want to be?”

If the answer is no, then I hope to stop midstream and change course. It is never too late to change, and now is the perfect moment to be exactly what you’d like to be.

This, of course, is easier said than done. This weekend, I got a trial run when I drove the kids to Park City for a movie and some shopping. First of all, there were about a million people in Park City for Olympic trials. But, I wasn’t going to let a little California traffic ruin my Zen mood. I don’t know how they learn to drive in California, but after being cut off half a dozen times, I silently blessed each driver, hoping their day was brighter after nearly killing me.

Then, at the movie theater, the guy selling tickets said, “There is no showing of  “The Hobbit” at 1 p.m. The internet was wrong.”

Fortunately, I didn’t have to open up a can of crazy on him, because the people in line ahead of me did. I stood by serenely, watching the tourists go bananas. Coincidentally, they decided to show “The Hobbit” at 1 p.m.

I wasn’t fazed when I chose the slowest popcorn line, nor was I perturbed when the clerk dropped my giant cup of diet coke on the floor. When the popcorn burned, because the kid was cleaning up the diet coke, the guy behind me muttered, “I’m not eating burned popcorn.”

I peacefully replied, “I like burned popcorn.”

Surprised he said, “Really? You like that?”

“No”, I answered from my happy place, “I just tell myself I do, so I won’t hate it.”

He looked at me as though I were some crazy hippy chick. As if.

All was well until the car ride home. And then, after an hour in the car, two hours in the theater, and a ride back to Wyoming, my kids opened up a can of crazy on me. They started poking, prodding, arguing, whining, and making the trip as miserable as possible.

And the drivers tailgating the entire way did not help my irritation.

I tried talking nicely. I tried distracting them with conversation.

Me: “Wasn’t that a great movie?”

Gunnar (with his headphones turned up all the way): “WHAT?!”

Lexi (jabbing him in the ribs): “Be in the present Gunnar. Mom isn’t going to keep repeating herself.”

Gunnar (louder): “WHAT??!!”

Lexi (yelling): “I SAID, BE IN THE PRESENT. We aren’t going to keep going to the past just because you aren’t listening.”

Gunnar: “WHAT?”

And so it continued for an hour. By the time we reached Evanston, my Zen was gone, my irritation had peaked and my jaw was clenched tight with the effort of not screaming like an insane woman.

Life can be trying. Most days, especially during Christmas vacation, we are challenged from all sides.

We don’t have to resolve to be better parents, to stop yelling, or even to lose weight. We don’t have to commit for a whole year. It just takes a decision in the moment to have things be different. And in some moments, that might take a little longer.

The good news is we always get a chance to start again. We don’t have to wait for a new year, a new week or a new day. We can start today, being the person we want to be.

So, when the kids are yelling, the dogs are barking and the fudge is calling your name, take just a moment to breathe deeply. Pause. Wait. And then be the person you really want to be.

Happy New Year and Namaste, Friends

I feel as giddy as a schoolgirl. Admittedly, I don’t really know what that means, but lately I’ve been pretty darn happy. Lots happier than usual.

Candy canes, mistletoe and snowmen: what’s not to love about December? And tomorrow is the first day of winter. I have decided that now is the time to start having fun. I was waiting until I got older, but I decided this week that I will start having fun now.

It all started with the Twelve Days of Christmas. Some good friends invited the kids and I along to deliver gifts to area residents, alone on the holidays. Somewhere between watching the kids sneak up to one door, all eight of them trying to be quiet, and driving off without them, I started laughing. Watching them chase the Suburban down the snowy road, slipping and sliding and tumbling into the open door, it was just too funny. Maybe it was the full moon. Maybe I’m just crazy, but the sight of those kids running in the snow, with Lexi losing her shoe halfway to the car, trying to avoid being caught by the elderly woman standing befuddled on her front porch, I couldn’t help but laugh. And this was no fake laugh, no weak chuckle, not a titter, but a full-on belly laugh that had me red-faced and coughing.

I decided right then that I need to start having more fun. And then I decided to take piano lessons. I’ve always wanted to. So when we got home, I dragged out the piano books, dusted off the keys and began tickling the ivories. It was delightful. I didn’t mind the fact that I had to step over a zombie army of Lego’s to get to the keyboard. Nor did I mind the spaniel howling his protest. I was having more fun than I have had in a while.

The next day, I remembered that I want to be an artist. So I searched high and low for my tubes of watercolor paints and paint brushes, found an empty art book and started painting. I’m certainly no Gisele Robinson, but after watching a few videos on You Tube, I was splashing water and paint around the page. It was fulfilling and fun. The kids chided me for getting paint on the table, but watercolors clean pretty easily. Again, I was having more fun, and I’m glad I decided not to wait until I get old.

I have been putting off a lot of things, waiting for just the right time. Well, now is the right time. It’s time for me to sing. It’s time to finish my next book. It’s time to go sledding on the buffalo hill. It is not, however, time to ice skate. I’m not completely crazy. It is time to get some stamps in my new passport.

After deciding weeks ago to stop worrying about inconsequential matters, I have been enjoying every day. Now, I am having fun. There are so many fun things I want to do, if I wait any longer, they might never get done. I’m not getting any younger. A friend recently reminded me on Facebook that every year, we pass the anniversary of our death, unawares. Well, it’s coming folks. There’s no getting out of this world alive. So now is the time to have fun. By my calculations, I have only got 65 more years left to have fun. I will wait no longer. I’m starting now.

Singing in the shower? Check. Playing with the dogs? Check. Having fun with my kids? Check. All the fun I’ve put off for so long will be experienced with great enthusiasm, until I am 111.

Usually by this time of year, I am tired. Exhausted, actually. But after deciding to stop worrying and have fun, I feel energized. I feel ready to take on the world. It’s not that I’m not tired. I live a life of chronic sleep deprivation. But what I am is excited, energized and ready to live my life.

It’s the most wonderful time of the year to start having fun, to start celebrating this journey we call life, and to meet the day with unbridled enthusiasm. Every day is full of unlimited possibility. Don’t wait, have fun. And I wish every one of you a Merry Christmas and a blessed and prosperous New Year.

Namaste, friends

Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays. Yes, I will admit, I love Christmas music, and can’t wait for the first of November, so that I can listen to joyful music with abandon. But my delight in listening to uplifting music is only compounded by Thanksgiving. I love the fact that Thanksgiving is a holiday that hasn’t become too commercial. There aren’t big, fat,  fake turkeys lurking on every corner, the decorations are more fall-like than “Thanksgiving” in nature and holiday stress hasn’t quite settled in.

Even more than that, I love what Thanksgiving represents for me. First, the pilgrims, people just like the rest of us, who were trying to survive in a new land. I can imagine their fears and frustrations with the New World, which was so foreign to them. Trying to eke a living from the unforgiving land must have seemed an impossible task, and facing unknown enemies made the challenge nearly insurmountable. So, I first acknowledge and am thankful for all of us, who are working against all odds to raise our families, to put food on the table and to survive in a world that seems hostile at times. I am thankful for a job I love, and people who support and encourage me every day. I am so blessed to make a living doing something I love.

Another thing I love about Thanksgiving is family. My childhood memories of Thanksgiving include lots of cousins, aunts and uncles who gathered together to gossip, argue and eat too much. By the end of Thanksgiving weekend, the cousins had pummeled each other until they established the proper pecking order. Fortunately, as the eldest cousin, I was typically on the top of the heap, bleeding slightly in the snow. I won’t lie. Another vivid memory is of one or more uncles passed out in the living room, in front of the television, watching a blurry game of football. Back in the day, we didn’t have a hundred cable channels. We had rabbit ears with aluminum foil, and college football, and lots of beer, wine and other beverages for adult consumption only. By the end of the weekend, some aunts and uncles were no longer on speaking terms. Once again, I think they were establishing their pecking order, in a different manner than the cousins. Personally, I believe the fisticuffs was a more direct way to determine honor than arguing.

Now days, I am thankful for family. Not just for my eight children, who are flung far and wide across the country, but for my friends and their families, who so warmly welcome us to participate in their lives. Spending time with family is one of my treasured holiday traditions, and though I likely won’t be passed out in front of the T.V., you can bet that the younger kids and I will be watching more than our share of holiday movies. I will start with “A Wonderful Life”, which brings tears to my eyes every time I realize how blessed I really am.

One of my favorite things about Thanksgiving is that we can eat what we want, usually guilt free. One of the hallmarks of my life has been my tremendous capacity to carry around guilt. Not all of it is deserved, but I burden myself none-the-less. I have a lot of food related guilt, about what I should or should not be eating, whether something is on my diet, whether something will make me fat. You know the routine. I’m sure many of you are in the same food-deprivation mindset. But during Thanksgiving, I allow myself to enjoy culinary pleasures without the nagging voice telling me I shouldn’t. I am so thankful for the bounty and variety of food available to us in this country. Even in the middle of Wyoming, in the middle of winter (technically in the middle of fall), we have access to fresh fruits and vegetables, meat and bread to an extent unimagined in other countries. We are so blessed to live here and now.

Finally, Thanksgiving is a time to relax and be grateful and that is one of my favorite things. I like having a day to reflect on the many blessings in my life. I appreciate an entire day dedicated to giving thanks.

Meister Eckhart, a German theologian, philosopher and mystic said, “If the only prayer you said was thank you, that would be enough.”

I try to live my life remembering those simple words. Thank you. I am grateful for a town that I can call home, for the kindness of friends and strangers, and for the love of the people around me.

Life is beautiful and Thanksgiving provides us an opportunity to pause just a moment, look around and utter the simple prayer, “Thank you”.