Yesterday. Friday. A day of different.
Different to be out on the water this early but not in the kayak. Ken and I are heading into town for groceries and errands and banking and a haircut (for me). And unlike the work week just passed, this day is warm and sunny. A great day to be out and about. Feels good, like gratitude does. And I tell God, "Thanks."
On the way things are different, but probably only in contrast to what we've been enjoying this whole fall in terms of being quietly tucked away on the island. Because....there's boat traffic! What? Probably people coming to spend Thanksgiving at the cottage, we guess. And then in Midland there are lots of cars. And we laugh because, well, it's Midland and one rarely describes these delightful places as bustling or busy, even in the summer seasons when lots of city folks like us mill about. But to us, not-so-city-folks-right-now, it felt all bustling and busy. Not in a bad way. Only to make me realize how much I am enjoying this prolonged time away from 'normal' city 'stress.' And I pause while we're waiting a long time to make a left turn, and tell God, "Thanks." But this time, I say that one word a little more slowly, as if the gratitude has expanded a little. Because I'm comparing that with how anxious I was about doing this extended cottage thing. And, honestly, I've needed this. And I am so grateful.
Christmas in the stores! Okay, not to start that whole big argument, and I'm not even sure there's a point of gratitude here. But I mention it only because already it was weird for us, when we came in to town in early September, and there was Hallowe'en and fall merchandize everywhere.
This is a summer thing for us, coming into Midland. For over fifty years it's been that way. And now, here we are watching the seasons retail before our very eyes.
And actually, if I think of it, and I do think of it, there is a thankfulness in the weirdness of it all. Like I said before, we didn't really know for sure how our autumn would all go. So when I see the fall stuff, and then the Christmas stuff in the stores here in summer-cottage-usually-Midland, it reminds me that it's working, this crazy plan of ours. So far, so good. Feels good, like gratitude does.
Longer pause. Then...
"Thank You."
And we find the right lumber to finish a project, and I get my haircut, and we have a stamp already for that letter we want to mail, and we get some good bargains on our groceries at Giant Tiger, and we find just the right little photo books for the Bible Lessons at Hot Springs in November, and there's lots of pumpkin pies left at Zehrs so we'll be good for bringing one to Janet's dinner the next day, and we eat a light lunch in the van, and I have my ice cap, and the ride back in the boat is warm but invigorating, and we're all back and done our day into town by 3 p.m.
I want to sit in the sun.
So I do, for about an hour, all warm and kept company by my very own blue jays and chipmunks who ask where I've been the past few days. And in my journal I start to write about what I'm grateful for. Because, well, it just all kept coming to mind all day.
But I get ambushed, and I mean that in a good way, by the Spirit Who, as I now really engage in the deeper spaces of gratitude He's been opening up in me all day, now brings to mind all the beloveds of my life.
I stop writing.
Because...oh the bigness of this all of a sudden! All their faces!!! I am bombarded with images, moments, memories, smells, hilarities, love, all in rapid fire and frozen in time all at the same time.
How did I ever come to have so much of this?!
And this is not at all what I ever expected in the early years of my life. Not back then when things, for various chapters of how my story goes, were just not okay for this little girl who felt like something was really not okay with her most of the time. Then to get to this era of my life, and, by contrast -- Well, it could not be more different.
And it all feels so good and so overwhelming, like intense gratitude does, that I weep it several times over in choked whispers, sitting there in the late afternoon sun, with Him pressing in on me in that undeniable way of His.
"Oh my God! Thank You!"
I sit in the embrace of that for many moments.
This is then interrupted by a chipmunk who jumps onto my shoe, runs up my leg, and peeks around my journal to inform me all the peanuts are gone. From the sublime to ridiculous cuteness. I wipe my face and gently let my friend know that's all there is for today. Time to go inside and start supper for the humans.
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And the weekend of Thanksgiving is just begun.
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