Thanksgiving

Not a whole lot to report from these parts, at least not a whole lot of interest. I could go on and on about the thrill I get every time I see an empty shelf, drawer, tote, or space where something used to be, that isn't anymore, but I won't. The deep purge continues. I've got a few drawers and cupboards to go, and still haven't tossed all my old teaching materials or journals, but I'm plugging along. The recycling bin is full each week, and that is the goal. My car continues to fill with stuff that needs a better home, and each time I drop off a load, I feel as though my own personal baggage load has been lightened.

STM asked me the other day, "When is the last time we cleaned the light fixtures?"

The last time was never. In 10 years, they've never been touched.

This may sound silly, trite, and in the grand scheme of things, utterly ridiculous, but taking down the shades, washing them, cleaning the fixtures, wiping off the bulbs and putting them all back, was holy. It was an opportunity to practice giving thanks. Thanksgiving for the time and space to do it. Thanksgiving for the home I live in. Thanksgiving for the place we are in our lives, with our children, with our marriage, with our wherewithal, that allows this to be be on the To Do List, after 10 years of putting out fires, and chasing our tails.

We aren't the same couple that moved into this house 10 years ago. We aren't the same parents. We aren't the same family.

And for that, we give thanks.