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 .

Change Has Come

...and you'll have to excuse me, but right now I'm pouting because I didn't get to play a part in it.

Yesterday the girls woke up and immediately wanted to know who had won the election. When I told them, they were crestfallen. No, not really, I just like the word "crestfallen", and I never get to use it. But their level of disappointment was pretty high, especially considering neither of them know anything about either candidate.

It was really hard to know what to tell the girls about how I feel about Obama. I wanted to tell them that the reason I didn't vote for him had nothing to do with race .......then I wondered if I should even go there. Because it's highly probable that it never occurred to them that a candidate's race would affect anyone's vote. They, who don't even use the word "black" but instead use innocent descriptors like, .... "you know Kenzie? The girl at church with the brown skin?" They would look at me with confused expressions, and then, realizing I must be joking, they would laugh weakly, not getting the joke.
"Hahaha, nothing to do with race. That's funny. Haha....... but why would you even say that Mommy?"

The truth is girls, I couldn't help it, and you may never understand why. Because even though you are growing up within a literal stone's throw of the place I grew up, the generational distance makes me more southern than you, in the same way it makes your grandparents more southern than me. And maybe because of that, I'm feeling the need to explain myself.

See girls, deep down, I've always wanted to see our country elect a black president. And, considering that it was 100 years after the Civil War before the slow death of segregation even began, I honestly didn't think it would happen in my lifetime. But to the extent that I ever allowed myself to imagine it happening, I saw myself voting for that nameless, faceless individual.

Now we're witnessing the realization of a famous Dream. Only I'm feeling a little like I've been robbed of one. Of course, mine wasn't a dream with a capital D. It didn't stem from the oppression of anyone I personally knew. It was just about recognizing that oppression, and wanting to play a small part in it's demise - to have helped that kind of change to come.

That's what I wanted to tell them.

What I ended up telling them, was that history had been made this election. That for the first time in the history of our country, we have a black president, and that by itself, that fact is an awesome thing because it's really way overdue. And that I really wish I could have voted for him. But that I couldn't do it because I don't share his beliefs about many things ( or was it a few really important ones?) .

I think once I'm over the dissolution of my dream, I'll be more concerned with the kind of political change that has come.

On a lighter note, have you ever wondered how their mother would vote if Obama and McCain were brothers? That question crossed my mind on election night as Sissy and Peanut held their own campaign and election.... for president of their bedroom. They each carried a sign ....ELECT SISSY 2008........... PEANUT FOR PRESIDENT. Then they came to me together and informed me it was time for me to vote.

"I'm supposed to choose between you two?" I asked. It was a no-win situation. I did the only thing I could do. I exercised my constitutional right to withhold my vote. They admitted it was an awkward position for me and said they understood ...... and went off to poll the stuffed animals and baby dolls. I didn't ask how it turned out.