Seasons of Blessings

As Thanksgiving draws to a close, memories fall gently through my mind floating as stray leaves in the air until landing without sound. Random thoughts scattered in the breezes of past holidays give pause to the darkening sky on the eve of a new day. In the still, I remember loved ones and past holidays filled with friends and family beckoning to my heart with soft voices.

The venue changes each year, as do the people gathered around the table, and thankfulness the only constant. Thankfulness for the basics of food, clothing and shelter; for people who are loved and love us back; for those who have crossed our paths and enriched our lives; for life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness; for health; for every small thing and every large thing, we are thankful.

We take time to dream about the future and lift prayers for those who are fighting so we might continue to be blessed. We plan for the next holiday and ponder different menus and soon will go back to a routine normalcy. It is in the span of these days that we may need to see the leaves swirl together and fall as a rainstorm gusting into our faces and slapping our sleeping senses. How easy it could be to forget all for whom and all of which we are thankful. As we trudge through barren trees and walk amidst land edged in crimson and gold, we might forget the same landscape dotted with bluebells or laboring under the noise of cicadas or frozen under white icing. We might forget that Thanksgiving is not simply a day but the culmination of seasons and the people who have walked the earth before and with us.

Time moves forward and backward fluidly and we along with it as long as we don’t sit at the table too long.

Protection

In an effort to protect ourselves from harm, we strap on seat belts and wear bike helmets. We floss our gums so our teeth won’t fall out and wear sunscreen to prevent skin cancer. We stock up, store up and plan for the days ahead. We protect our hearts from hurt; our spirits from bruising; our souls from damage. And yet, when we look beyond ourselves, the unimagined surprise is worth more than a passing glance.

So it was recently with a friend at yet another hockey game. Oblivious to the commotions around me, I stared at the jumbotron during intermission, while multi-tasking with food, drink and conversation. Suddenly, my friend leapt out of her seat and wrapped her arms around my head burying me in her protective clutch. Within a moment, she released me and startled, I asked her what was happening. It turns out that hockey pucks were being thrown into a receptive audience and she had seen one flying our way.

I wonder how often we spend so much energy looking out for ourselves that we lose opportunities to look out for others? And when the moment comes, would we instinctively jump up to protect others or would we duck and save ourselves? What can we do to prepare for those moments?

Perhaps the answer starts with each one of us. Examining our hearts and discovering what type of person we think we are or hope we can become. Then we expose vulnerable hearts in order to surround ourselves with people who show us the way and teach us how to be there for others--especially when the world is not looking.

If Only

If only I could paint, I would dip an artist’s brush in nature and color the landscape of your life entwined with mine as forest trees growing together reaching for the sun. I would draw your hair, the color of falling ripe acorns, tumbling across my path until gently resting on solid ground. I would paint the curve of your face in broad, sweeping strokes as if etched into ancient lands until chiseled in stone and carved with graces of time. I would reach for my reflection in the depths of your enigmatic eyes and portray their mysteries in bottomless, black pools. I would trace the flutter of your eyelashes and feel the breath of a gentle breeze against my skin. I would blow onto the wet painting and blur the lines until the calm of a soft night sky emerged sparkling with the wonder of myriad twinkling lights.

If only I could paint, I would dip my brush into your heart and draw a cave beckoning for me to enter. I would lightly feather your bubbling laughter spilling down canyons in wild abandonment splattering my life with goodness. Your strength would stand tall as the oaks weathering a white world until you showed me the colors of spring, summer and fall before drawing back within. Rooted in the earth, your independence would withstand trials and your character would be perennial seeds effortlessly emerging regardless of trodden steps on a leaf strewn trail. Your kindness and mercies would rise high in the background as a sheltering bluff protecting all who draw close to your warmth seeking shelter against ravaging storms. My finger would reach into the soft pastels of a sudden rainbow and design perpetual surprises seen by those who look with love. The birds would soar in complex patterns against the sky detailing a keen intelligence. Featured as the backdrop on my canvas, your soul would shine like the sun casting warm rays into wooded crevices.

If only I knew your name, I could paint.

Nyquil and Me

I have found peace in many places. This week, I found it in the form of a cherry flavor syrup named Nyquil. However, I'm hopeful to kick my new best friend out of the house soon. Planning on a better day next Sunday, November 14.