The weather is dreary; it's been raining for several days. The snow is gone and the river in our backyard is over flowing its banks. The park on the opposite side of the river from our house is flooded. But even in the cold and damp of winter there is reason to celebrate.
On Monday the spouse went to the cardiologist for his regular appointment. Ever since his heart attack, he has visited the cardiologist every six months. The doctor says his EKG shows no evidence that he has ever had a heart attack. The doctor said that if he didn't know that the spouse had had a heart attack, he wouldn't be able to tell from the tests. His test results are not those of a person who has had a heart attack! Two and a half years since his heart attack and he has made a complete recovery. He doesn't have to return to the cardiologist for another year.
I am grateful for the doctors and the modern technology that kept my husband alive. And, I am especially grateful for the miracle that has allowed him to make a complete recovery.
Life is good!
The spouse is out of town on business. He doesn't travel often, so when he does it's like a little vacation for me. I enjoy the perks of living single. I sleep in the middle of the bed and never wake up freezing because all the covers have been pulled to the other side of the bed. I am the goddess of the TV remote control and never have to linger on ESPN or those wildlife and fishing shows. My meals are exactly what I want to eat, when I want to eat them. Best of all...the toilet seat will remain down all week!
I am grateful for the little breaks in our routine, but I will be just as grateful to have him home Thursday night.
For a long time I thought that the hardest thing I ever had to do was to walk away from my daughter. She was 15 and heading off for a year as an exchange student in Spain. We had spent a great week enjoying the sites in New York City before meeting at the airport with the group of students going to Spain. My flight heading back to Oregon left from another terminal an hour before her flight left. I still don’t know how I found the strength to turn and walk away from my child knowing that it was the last time I would see her for a year. Intellectually I knew that I had to let her go, but the mother part of me wanted to hold her safe and near.
Several years later I had to walk away from her brother. Over a long weekend my son went through a battery of tests and evaluations and it was determined that he needed residential treatment for his substance abuse problem. The day after Thanksgiving my husband and I drove him 150 miles to a residential drug treatment center. I walked away and left him there knowing that it was the only real hope for a future that he had, but the mother part of me still wanted to hold him safe and near.
When people talk to me about difficult decisions, leaving my kids is what I think about. Part of being a parent is making tough decisions. The easier decision would have been to not let go, or to not see the drug problem. Knowing that it was the right thing to do didn’t ease the pain of letting go. The ache was there, but it dulled with the joy of seeing my children grow and prosper.
This past Christmas my entire family flew to California to my brother's house in San Diego to celebrated the holiday. The last time we were all together for Christmas was four years ago when my mother died a few days before the holiday. Four generations celebrated Christmas under one roof. I slept well at night knowing that my children, who are now 30 and 32, were tucked safe and warm in their beds.
The moments together are increasingly rare and treasured. However, these days it is easier to let them go because I know from experience that they will return safely.
I am grateful for family who love me despite my numerous faults and for my children who, even though I've let them go numerous times, occasionally return to the nest.
I started blogging over at the other blog just over a year ago. I started Plentiful Sufficiency a few weeks later on January 7, 2010. So, next Friday I will celebrate the one year anniversary.
I started this blog because other blogs I had seen had a theme. Since I don't knit or scrapbook, I had a hard time thinking of a theme. Readers of my blogs know that I am a big fan of Oprah...and she is always harping about journaling and gratitude. Problem solved, I decided to blog about gratitude.
The title of the blog came from my childhood. My brothers and I could not leave the dinner table without being excused. My mother did not like us to say "I'm full." She would ask us "You've had a plentiful sufficiency?" In my house plentiful sufficiency meant that one had enough.
The blog has forced me to think about gratitude, perhaps not as frequently as Oprah would like, but certainly far more frequently than I did previously. I find it easy to overlook how much I have to be grateful for. It is easy for me to focus on what I don't have rather than what I do. I can look with envy at what others have that I don't, but neglect to recognize all that I have been given.
Several times in the past few months I have considered ending this blog. I've gotten over the idea that I need to have a theme, and frankly sometimes I've struggled with being grateful. But, for now, I've decided to continue. Oprah is right; it is a good idea to focus on gratitude.
I'm grateful to all of you who have read and commented on my postings. Your encouragement kept me writing.
Happy New Year! Thank you for sticking with me this year. I look forward to another year of celebrating all that I have to be grateful for.
