living in thanks

my brother and my uncle decided that 2014 should be the year of being thankful.  that we should live in this. look for it. communicate it.  that we should reflect and share with each other what we are thankful about, and who we are thankful for. 

i agree.

so yesterday, i woke up and decided that even though it was the end of 2013- it was time to begin with thanks.  i began with being thankful that Christmas is over. because this year, Christmas was hard.  i think the third Christmas in a row on the equator, far from family, in the heat and dust of the dry season, got to me.  i missed everything.  i missed cold air that shows your breath, i missed fireplaces and the one sided hotness that goes with them. i missed cousins and games and holiday M&Ms.  i missed real eggnog and parties and Christmas oreo's.  i missed caroling and snow and sales and eating seasonal starbucks mint brownies. yes, this year, i missed america all of it, consumerism and all.  i missed old friends and tradition.  i missed our church's candle light service.  i missed the preamble and the post-amble and the get ready for new years amble. so first of all, i was thankful that Christmas is over and the new year can begin.

yesterday i walked up monkey hill and i was thankful for the morning.  that zoe had gotten up and breakfasted and showered and brushed and ready with minimal argument but still assistance.  i was thankful that i had kept my calm.  that we were done before noon.  that it was relatively smooth sailing.  i was thankful for the clarity of the sky, the brightness of the sun, the five different electric colored flowers i could see in one view.  i was thankful for lake victoria.  for the wiggling shadows of the banana leaves beckoning to me, for the perfect-even-though-not-decemmberish weather.  and i was reminded in being thankful, that life is lived in these moments, in these small spaces joy comes, we can turn things around when we stop and appreciate, when we value what is all around us, and each other. 

i get easily overwhelmed.  i look at zoe especially, and become easily discouraged that she still doesn't fully know how to wash her hair.  i look and see all the years past and all the possible years ahead of her need and her lack and her dependence and in that place, i become hopeless. i become swallowed. i become lost in my life.  but when i can see the little victories, when i remember to see the smoother bits as smooth, and the easier times as better than it could be- that is when i feel hope, and joy.  and in the hope and joy, i can behave better.  in the hope and joy, i can encourage and support and be strong and provide. in the hope i can be who i want to be for her, and for me, and for all of us.

right now it's beautiful. it's quiet except for distant thunder.  the sky is white with clouds and the yard is littered with fallen leaves that tapped along the tin roof all afternoon.  things are still. children are far. birds are always and forever in song.  there are swimming clothes drying on the line.  i am on my porch. alone. thankful for this moment.  these minutes. 4:52 on a friday afternoon, two days after Christmas, almost to the new year.

i will keep holding on to these bits.  i will keep looking to savor the sweetness- to see it and love it and appreciate what is good in my day. and i think 2014 will be full of hope and joy- because it's there- it's in the color and the air and the sound of thunder and small voices. because it's in remembering to stop and look and be thankful for these things, and for each other.