Have you ever had a day so busy you didn't even think to count your blessings or give thanks? I suppose for some people, that's a regular occurrence; I know some folks who are so sour and negative that it doesn't seem they've ever paused to be thankful. That's too bad, because gratitude is one of the best soul tonics there is. It costs nothing, is easy to apply, has no bad side effects. How can you go wrong? And yet, day after day, week after week, there are those who by their own choice live under the dark shadow of ingratitude.
Today was a busy day. From first light to lengthening shadows, it's been filled with almost non-stop activity. Ten grandkids and one grandkid's friend overnight is a rollicking way to start a weekend. Last night, we had a bonfire, cooked hot dogs, ate corn on the cob and Meema's homemade mac and cheese, a Friday night staple around here. It was a good way to get rid of a pile of old lumber that's been uglifying the place since we began renovations a year and a half ago. Yeah, I just coined that word. I think it's a pretty good one, and like Charles Dickens' "chortle," lets everyone know I'm not to be trifled with as a writer. That last sentence is for my daughter's sake. She's been pestering me for months to start a blog, so how's that for a bang-up beginning?
This morning, it was the requisite pancakes with real maple syrup, sausage, and eggs, then off to gram's to help clean out the garage prior to selling the house. Two trips to the transfer station with our brother in law's full size pickup is indication of all the stuff still laying around, even after weeks and weeks of hoeing things out. Then there was the little matter of the cherry tree that fell into the backyard from the hedgerow. I thought it was only a branch that needed to be cleaned up and hauled into the brush, but turns out, it was an entire tree that took me an hour to block up and load into my truck, completely filling it.
A late lunch with Barb and Gary (Linda's sister and brother in law), then home to unload the last few things worth keeping. I'm saving the unloading of the truck till tomorrow when I can take it over to son Nate's for splitting before stacking: "unload, split, load, unload, stack:" there's still plenty of work to be done. After a much-needed shower, I rehearsed for the song I'll be singing at another sister-in-law's church in the morning. Now it's a little relaxation before bed, and finally, time to reflect and give thanks. I cannot afford to let a day pass without it.
So what is there in all this for which to give thanks? Plenty. I'm healthy enough for the physical work, had great people working alongside me, got a free lunch, and when we got home, our neighbor Johnny had York-raked the fill we had put in our front yard. Nothing in all this is of earth-shaking consequence, and when I read again of the atrocities taking place in Iraq at the hands of ISIS, it seems small indeed. But the goodness or evil of life is rooted in small choices made by ordinary people, and we underestimate the power of God to work through those choices. I cannot explain the evil that bedevils the world; there is far more of it than seems justifiable to me. But I know also that many of Rembrandt's finest paintings had more shadow than light. My God is a far greater artist than Rembrandt, and I believe when his masterpiece is done, we'll see these small kindnesses and mercies shining more brightly for the depth of the darkness in the background.
Definitely no trifling.
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