On Being Thankful

Thanksgiving. Some people around me, in daily comings and goings, have grumbled, that they have nothing to be thankful for. An economy that's less than comforting, a job that's either inadequate or absent, or the loss of things held dear. Some even said, "I prayed that things would be different this year!" How do you explain to someone that prayer is not a quick fix, an instant healing? Prayer is not asking, it is a longing of the soul. It is a daily admission of one's heart; it is giving words to which you seek answers.

I can't always make it to Sunday service; some weekends are spent working. Life doesn't stop according to the calendar, and disaster does not take a day of rest. But my faith is a quiet, deep stream and I talk to God daily. I've certainly had to ask for that forgiveness in my talks with Him. For we talk regularly, in the woods, hunting with my Browning, when the light has a weary quality to it, like a backwater pool of light lying low, winter's light is crisp, clean, illuminating everything so clearly.  The words are less than wishes and more than regrets, and even if I did not state them out loud, I could hear them with my breathing as they gathered within the intent of breath and came forth in a rush of cold air, invisible words going up to an invisible God.

Sometimes He and I talk as I'm sitting in a vehicle in the middle of a scene of dark desolation, ash in my hair, red smeared on my boots, as bold as if painted on a door frame, a sign, that, for tonight, I was to be spared.  Perhaps this one time I did not save His sparrow that He perhaps neglected to mark, but I am here to reconcile the remains. It's just talk, but it's still a prayer; prayer being more than the order of words, the conscious calling of the mind that is speaking, or the sound of the voice praying. I do not expect to hear anything back, the communication between us tongued with fire beyond the blaze that is dying next to me. But it's comforting; words spoken into the void, penitence, and belief, as all around hope is falling into embers. He may not respond, but He is there, never and always. 

Not everything in my life I was thankful for when it happened.  Hindsight is 20/20. I look back at many things that have happened to me, love, loss, illness, and times of searing pain that have honed me into the person I am. I wake up too sometimes with dread for the direction I look at the world around us, fearful of the things that concern all of us, yet I truly believe that life is good, each day an adventure. For there's a hope in me, a wonderment just to be alive. If some higher power could have kept me from feeling life's pain would I have asked for it? Of course. Yet I would not be who I am, without my experiences. I am a better person for my trials. 

Think of something that you wished for, and didn't get, that ended up being something completely unexpected, and even more wonderful. I was a teenager and abandoned by my boyfriend when I first believed I was pregnant. Scared and angry as I first prayed "Oh please don't let me be", I had not known, in my brief years, that life itself lay embedded in each lustrous moment. I had yet to grasp the science and wonder that changed amino acids into living cells or glimpse the miracle of spontaneous healing - forgiveness where once there was despair and anger. I had listened to a hundred old hymns as I grew up and loved the music, but had not dared hope that from my own flesh, I would see the transcendent. I am reminded daily that I am, and we all are, destined to die—but just as surely to participate in our role in creation. And she was born. I had prayed that it would not happen. Now someone new and beautiful lay breathing, a soft deep breath of trust in life. I really didn't know how lacking in hope I had been until then. And the event that I had prayed would not take place became my greatest accomplishment and her small redheaded form, my biggest act of courage. 

And on this Thanksgiving she is happy and safe, having a wonderful meal with her husband and children and her Mom, toasting her Dad who left this world just a few years ago.  I will concentrate on that, - on everything I have, unplanned or not, that was worth celebrating. The surprises in our lives, when we think there are none left, are things to savor. I'd also say our prayers are all answered; we just don't always get the answer we want. As much as you might wish it to be, you can't always measure the work of the universe with order and logic, any more than you can expect to have everything you ask for. For neither our government nor our God, are some sort of divine help desk we can call for response to every monetary and physical need. But I do believe that with our God, that we are heard. So on this Thanksgiving, I will continue to pray for family, for a small group of friends whom I love, and that great liberty of laughter and hope, still knocking on my door.