At roughly 7:50am, Sunday morning, I finally give way to the day, toss of the sheets, swing my feet the floor and stretch.  I don’t typically sleep this late but it felt a like day deserving of the extra time.  Moments, later, by some intuitive power that she possesses, Alison opens the bedroom door opens with a coffee in one hand and my computer in the other.  We exchange our good mornings and she says “Here, take these, close the door and enjoy some time to yourself before the chaos of the day.”  She then turns around and heads back downstairs.  It’s gestures like these – simple, thoughtful, no impact to the bank account, that I am thankful for, and I suppose that’s one of the many things we’re meant to take note of this weekend.

So many events have taken place this past year, just as every year before it; from countless adventures through the outdoors, to the quiet days indoors, our family has experienced growth, challenge, love, kindness, and every sentiment in the spaces between.  As such, there is no possible way for me to sit here and list out everything I am thankful for, but that should in no way suggest that I live without gratitude.  Recency bias would call out that I am most grateful for my families sincere words of empathy when my beloved guitar met its final days.  Their reaction to the event was heartfelt and there recognition that this wasn’t just a piece of wood with strings on it let me know how truly seen I am in the eyes of those I love most.  Rather than shrug it off, they encouraged I find a replacement once my mourning period had surpassed, to the point of offering me some of their allowance to help fund the initiative.  For the ways in which the whole thing unfolded, I am thankful.  Yet I am no more thankful for something that happened a week ago than I am last February, when we skied the slopes on a mountain in Ottawa, just the four of us – carving our paths in the snow and blistering cold, then heading straight to the hotel hot tub and eventually retiring to the room for a cozy cuddle into bed.  Every day, no matter who near or far it is to this moment, contains more to be grateful for than I have capacity to fully acknowledge in a few short paragraphs.

Today we hosted our annual family feast, and today I go to experience how much difference a year can make to that experience.  Both girls not only helped to prepare the house by means of cleaning, tidying, etc. but they each quite happily participated in the preparation of the meal.  Fully engaged in the process and practices of handling the knife, caring for the ingredients and cleaning as they went, I cannot deny that the hour or so we spent in the kitchen bringing things to life was a highlight of the year and put me in the happiest of places.  I do not expect them to earn Michelin stars, become a household name, or publish best-selling cookbooks in their lifetime, but, for one – the fact that they are displaying the skills now that are required later in life to properly sustain life is important to me.  Second – that they have joy around food because they know it’s important to me just fills my cup right up.  Third – that they can see how food can be a bridge for bringing people, communities and love together is absolutely the thing that gets me at my core.  It’s not only about sustaining life, it can be about the conversation that happens as we break bread, or the stories we tell when we hear about the source of an ingredient or the inspiration of a dish.  Food is more than just food and my kids are steeped in that in our home and for that, I am thankful.

Among so many things in my life – family, friends, the roof over my head, the geography of my roots – I share my gratitude and thankfulness in countless ways, and I do my best to recognize that not just on one weekend out of the year.  I also recognize, however, that this weekend does cause one to pause and reflect a little bit deeper,  creating purposeful moments in which not only our thoughts but our actions should steep in those things that have touched, impacted, shaped, or influenced who we are, how we live, and perhaps how much further we have to go.  I’ve been trying to more intentionally recognize, for example, that the food on our plates has an origin that required efforts I will never know.  That there is history in the ground on which our house was built that I openly admit I’ve done little to nothing to research.  That there are those who built this town that I am to be grateful for whose names I’ve never learned, faces I’ve never seen, stories I’ve never heard, and whose own histories have never been recognized.  A lot of events transpired in order for me, my family, my friends and my roots to exist how they are today, and many, if not most of those things were not joyous, fair, just or pleasant.  I know that I have more to do in order to properly understand and recognize history to ensure it is not repeated, and I know that a single blog post or that pausing for one day out of the year to bring these thoughts to mind is not the role I must play, but I do hope that the acknowledgement is at least a start.

However you spend your day today – and I hope it’s in ways that bring joy into you heart – I also hope you can find the moments to take special note of all that surrounds you.  Notice the people, the places and the air and the land and ask, as I am trying to do more often, what it means to give thanks.