Gratitude, Blessings, and Pie

Happy Thanksgiving, friends!  I hope you’re enjoying the holiday with good food, surrounded by your friends and family.

This morning I read this wonderful reflection and I love the idea of coming up with a thousand things to be grateful for throughout a year.  A thousand seems like a big number, but when you stop to think about it, we all have many more thousands, if not millions of things to be thankful about.  I’m going to take up this challenge this year.  Who’s going to join me? DSC_0185

Today, I’m feeling profoundly grateful for my sweet little happy, healthy family.  Life feels tough and prickly some days, but few moments go by that I’m not acutely aware how blessed I am that I get to do family with these people. My people. I’m also crazy thankful that our too-early snow all melted… it’s too early for this shenanigans, mmmmk?  The kids had fun, but I’m not ready for the wet boots and slushy mudroom. DSC_0167

What are you thankful for this year?  I asked my kids when we made our “thankful turkeys” yesterday and I loved their honest, sweet answers. (In case you’re wondering, yes, that is a monster turkey and yes, I did have to stop Joey from just listing different kinds of sweets for his 6 things to be thankful for. Because… 3 year olds.)


Hope this day finds you filled with joy, love, and a profound awareness of your many blessings.  I also hope it finds you filled with turkey, cranberry sauce, and pie.

Also, a little poem for you, that I stumbled upon earlier today, and which made my heart warm and happy.  Happy Thanksgiving, friends.


by Tim Nolan


Thanks for the Italian chestnuts—with their

tough shells—the smooth chocolaty

skin of them—thanks for the boiling water—


itself a miracle and a mystery—

thanks for the seasoned sauce pan

and the old wooden spoon—and all


the neglected instruments in the drawer—

the garlic crusher—the bent paring knife—

the apple slicer that creates six


perfect wedges out of the crisp Haralson—

thanks for the humming radio—thanks

for the program on the radio


about the guy who was a cross-dresser—

but his wife forgave him—and he

ended up almost dying from leukemia—


(and you could tell his wife loved him

entirely—it was in her deliberate voice)—

thanks for the brined turkey—


the size of a big baby—thanks—

for the departed head of the turkey—

the present neck—the giblets


(whatever they are)—wrapped up as

small gifts inside the cavern of the ribs—

thanks—thanks—thanks—for the candles


lit on the table—the dried twigs—

the autumn leaves in the blue Chinese vase—

thanks—for the faces—our faces—in this low light.



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