Thanksgiving

You know, I live in an almost perpetual state of distraction.

When I'm talking to Keith, my attention wanders toward the sound of arguing sisters in the next room.

When I kiss the girls good-night, even as they wrap their arms around my neck and declare their undying love for me, my mind has already walked away and flopped down on the couch to watch TV with Keith.

When I'm on the phone with my mother, I frequently realize I haven't been listening, and I'm never really sure how long I was in outer space, so I have to very carefully reenter the conversation.

When I'm sitting in church .... well, you get the idea.

It's like my world is mostly veiled in a light, intermittent fog. This fog is patchy enough that I am usually aware of what's going on around me and can even participate without anyone else realizing that I'm not fully engaged.

There are times however, when God gives me the ability to fully experience life in that particular moment.. When this happens, when the fog actually parts, there is a brief, beautiful window of hyperreality that brings my surroundings into sharp focus. Colors are more intense, sounds are richer, people I love are suddenly that much more precious. I hold tight to this moment for as long as I can, but soon the fog rolls back in.

The wonderful thing about these moments of clarity is that even after they disappear in the mist, I can remember them, at least for a little while. Many of these high-definition experiences have been written about in this blog. A priceless few have been etched into my memory for years.

I still remember a car ride with Brother when he was two. It was a routine errand, nothing special at all. But the day was gorgeous, and I had the windows in my little hatchback rolled down and the Allman Brothers in the tape deck. It was during the guitar solo on "Blue Sky" that I glanced in the rearview mirror at Brother, patting his carseat in time to the music while he watched the passing scenery. A second later, his eyes connected with mine in the mirror and he flashed me a grin that split his fat little face wide open. I still remember how it felt like my heart would come out of my chest in the sheer happiness of that second. I can still see his wispy hair flying in the wind. The year was 1990. I could take you to the exact spot on the exact road that this instant in time took place.

I have so much to be thankful for every day. This Thanksgiving though, I am especially thankful for the intangible gifts that are revealed to me, like that car ride eighteen years ago, one crystal-clear moment at a time.

For a sunlit room

For the smell of clean little- girl hair

For the sound of my son's car pulling in the driveway

For the warmth and security of my husband's arm around me as I fall asleep at night

For a friend with whom discussion flows freely about topics like the Bible, parenting, and the potential merits of owning a cow.

For measurable progress in my learn-to-sew mission

For a restful night's sleep

For my first sip of coffee in the morning

For the achingly sweet, wavering voices of a children's choir singing .... "Thank you , oh my Father, for giving us your Son .....

For these precious gifts and those as yet unrevealed, thank you God .