This past weekend I deep cleaned my house. My daughter asked if I was moving furniture and digging deep into the grime because my mom was coming for thanksgiving. It made me laugh. No I told her, it needed to be done and I was working out some life anxiety by tackling those hidden places dust settles and finding deep satisfaction in not thinking, just scrubbing. By the end of the day, my body was physically tired in a way it hadn't been in too long and for a moment, I could simply relish all that I had done. My sheer effort had made a difference in my little world.
I don't know about you, but right now, I am finding it hard to see where my efforts make a difference. In a country that seems to be on a crash course for disaster my voice feels so small and inconsequential. In my own life, decisions about my future, choices my kids are making, the impact of parenting parents all swirl together into an inky soup of uncertainty. I would venture to bet you may be feeling the same swirling chaos. It is exhausting.
And now, we are arriving at Thanksgiving. A holiday where we pause and give thanks for all we have, never mind it is a holiday rooted in land acquisition and colonialism. Those roots feel glaringly exposed this year. Many of you may be gathering at tables that no longer feel safe (or maybe never did). You may be gearing up for difficult conversations, facing a lonely holiday, missing family, struggling with your health, working, scraping by to just put food on the table. Finding gratitude may feel like a tall order.
Because I am not a wallower and am a stubborn follower of Jesus, I find myself digging deep for gratitude in unexpected and overlooked places. Moving the furniture around (literally and figuratively) unearthed gratitude in the grit. Thanks-giving for the quirky comfort of my old farm house. Peace in the unconditional love of the goats in the barn each night at tuck in. Joy at three generations gathered around my table to share a meal. Nights cold enough that I can stoke the fire and bring out the big blankets. The simmering tenacity of the resistance. The deep faith of those around me. The little things, the mundane things, the simple things, the tactile things.
If you are struggling to find gratitude in the grit, I offer you this blessing. May it inspire you to move the furniture to unearth the good.
God of grit and grace, we give thanks.
Not begrudgingly, but also not easily.
The world is a swirling soup of anxiety and chaos
And yet-
there you are.
Coaxing us to slow, to settle, to sense, and to see.
Bird song, migrating tundra swans, brilliant sun on frosty grass.
Favorite blankets, crackling fires, turkey roasting
Baby giggles, teenage sighs, traditions held in aging hands of generations
Laughter, tears, anger, delight wrapped in thin and precious skin
Inklings of dreams, possibility, hope
Whispers gaining strength, calling for justice, for love, for peace.
For this and more, we give you thanks. Amen.
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