But, several years ago (six to be exact) Noah had his first seizure. And for a very long time, I couldn't think up a good thing about Thanksgiving. It reminded me of hospitals, and missed celebrations, of dread, and heartache.
So whenever the holiday would come near and people would discuss their Thanksgiving plans I'd tense up. I couldn't wait for the day to hurry and make its appearance and leave quickly here's your shoes and coat, Thanksgiving.
The other day I realized that I wasn't feeling that tension. I was thinking about Thanksgiving with a normal breathing pattern. There were no flashbacks, or if there were, I could control them.
And I thought, relieved, I'm not going to write about it this year.
But here I am anyway, writing about not wanting to write about it.
Because that's what writers do.
I don't even know that life. I'm so thankful I'm not stuck there anymore.
Amidst all the distractions of life and living and perfecting my avoidance skills I'm afraid I've gotten a bit stuck here, in my new now. The very things I prayed for, the normalcy of the new normal, are the very things I mistakenly call burdens. Or irritations. Such bothers.
I prayed for Noah's healing, and for my own healing of broken-heart and broken-mind. And I've been healed. I've had faith, I've practically let faith slip through my fingers, and I've hugged it tight again.
We dance close, and we walk just inches apart until, faith, how did you get way over there?
Cut to me clasping my Bible for life and promising to do better this time.
Some day I'll glance over my shoulder at today. And be so thankful I'm not stuck here anymore.
That?, over there?, that I'm not going to write about? got me here. And now, what I'm living through today, is what will take me, well...
wherever I go next.
I can truly mean it this year, I'm thankful for Thanksgiving and all its coordinating accessories and unpredictable shenanigans.
I wish you a happy one.
What are you thankful for?
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