30 Days of Gratitude Challenge, Day 2: A Mistake

“Take the kayak out,” she said. “It’s a one seater, but you’ll both definitely fit.”

She was mistaken. Two grown women definitely do not fit in a one-seat blow up kayak. But we rowed around the little lagoon of the AirBnB anyway, playing Katy Perry on a waterproof iPhone, soaked from the waist down and laughing our heads off the whole time.

It was a disaster from start to finish, and it ended up being one of the best moments in my last eight months.

In summary:

• things that are a mistake: expecting to stay dry when you exceed the seating capacity of a kayak.

• things that are not: flying across the country for time spent carving a few more laugh lines with a good friend in golden light.

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This post was inspired by Callie Feyen’s 30 Days of Grateful Writing Challenge. Learn more here.

The Day Jon Lost His Job

On Wednesday morning, Jon was laid off from his job. He worked for a design firm whose biggest clients are collegiate and professional athletics, and the pandemic has radically altered the industry in two short weeks. We had talked a few days ago about preparing for this possibility down the road, but neither of us expected it to come so quickly or harshly.

He was offered no severance. Our health insurance ends in five days. My freelance income has dried up to a trickle. Suddenly our savings, which seemed so robust last month, felt like so little.

It began as a very dark day.

But.

Our family and friends have been so generous with their love and support. It’s such a lonely time right now, being physically distanced from everyone except the people who live within our four walls. But we did not feel alone on Wednesday. All day long, emails and texts and phone calls flowed into our home.

And that was the first good thing.

Then, that afternoon the sun came out. And not just a peek or two through the clouds; true, blue sky sunniness. Jon had spent all day on the computer and phone, reaching out to every contact he could think of and lining up every possible lead. But the four of us headed outside and went for a ride on scooters and bikes, and Ellie made “flower soup” in a puddle in the driveway, and the warmth and brightness seemed to tangibly lift some of the weight from our shoulders.

And that was the second good thing.

But the best came last. Nathan usually uses our shower at night. There’s a waterproof notepad on the wall that Jon got me one Christmas after I complained about losing all my good ideas in the shower. Nathan uses it to write notes to us from time to time, and as I was putting him in bed last night, he let me know there was a new note for us.

And that was the third good thing.

It’s a tough time. But it’s not without goodness and hope.

Keep spreading kindness and light.

Three Good Things, Part Three

If yesterday was an embarrassment of riches where I had to work to whittle down my list of good things to only three, today was the opposite of that.

It’s been a hard day. Not for any particular reason, but rather the weight of a thousand different reasons simply became too much to carry for a bit. I think maybe we’re all having that happen from time to time right now—some days just feel heavier and we suddenly find ourselves sobbing in the shower for no reason and all the reasons, all at the same time.

Today was that day for me.

But tonight we had breakfast for supper, which is my favorite … and that’s the first good thing.

The second is that I listened to my 90s country playlist while I cooked and introduced the kids to George Strait and Travis Tritt and Tim McGraw and by the time the pancakes were golden and the bacon was crispy, I was smiling and singing at the top of my lungs. You can’t listen to “It’s A Great Day To Be Alive” and not feel at least a little better.

But there almost wasn’t a third, until five minutes ago when a friend texted me this poem by Wendell Berry:

“Stay Home”

I will wait here in the fields
to see how well the rain
brings on the grass.
In the labor of the fields
longer than a man's life
I am at home. Don't come with me.
You stay home too.

I will be standing in the woods
where the old trees
move only with the wind
and then with gravity.
In the stillness of the trees
I am at home. Don't come with me.
You stay home too.

And just like that, at 10 p.m., I have my three good things.

P.S. If you need more Wendell Berry (and I think we could all use more Wendell Berry right now), may I suggest “The Peace of Wild Things”?

Three Good Things, Part Two

1. Today was our first day attempting any sort of homeschool situation. I know the expectations are across the board depending on your school district; ours is pretty low-key. Nathan’s teacher sent a few links to some online learning options and we were encouraged to just spend a little time each day doing something academic. We spent 30 minutes this morning doing ELA activities and 30 more minutes this afternoon doing math, and everyone was happy and agreeable and might’ve even learned something? Marking that in the W column.
   

2. My co-host on The Medium Talk Podcast, Colleen, informed me that all past episodes of Full House are available for streaming on Hulu, so we fired up the pilot episode tonight and introduced the kids to the Tanner clan. Jon and I were talking about the complete dearth of “family viewing” options on TV these days, but this throwback fits the bill perfectly. The kids cackled through the whole episode, and the nostalgia factor is solid. We happened to noticed that Family Matters, Step by Step, and Perfect Strangers are also on Hulu, so we might just have to resurrect the whole TGIF lineup.
   

3. Once the kids were in bed, Jon and I caught Garth Brooks’ and Trisha Yearwood’s performance on Facebook Live and it was A WORD. I cried like a baby through the whole back half of the show, and it was very cathartic to finally let go of all the emotions I’ve been holding onto and stuffing down for the past couple of weeks. I’ve been reluctant to really let myself “go there” because I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to resurface, but then Garth started crying while Trisha sang an a cappella version of Amazing Grace … and I figured if he could cry, I could, too. So I did, and now I feel better. Can we make this a weekly thing?

Not everything about this day was good. But it was a good day.

Three Good Things Today

I don’t have words yet for everything that’s going on right now, and I don’t know when I will; this is not a blog post of profound wisdom or insight. We are muddling through, the same as everyone else.

I’m tempted to say there are good days and bad days, but the truth is that the days are so long they each contain a dozen switchbacks from good to bad and back again. The underlying tenor of the days is one of anxiety and unsettledness though, and I’m worried that—God willing, someday soon—when this is all a distant memory, the tenor is all I’ll remember.

So starting now, I’m writing down three good things that happen every day. At first I just texted them to a couple of friends, but then I thought maybe I’d like to put them here, too. Not just for the someday version of me, but for tomorrow’s, too.

1. While we were eating lunch, some friends stopped by unexpectedly. They parked at the end of our driveway and their 10-year-old held a boombox over his head while we laughed and called greetings to each other over the music. Then we stood and visited for a bit from a government-mandated safe distance. Coincidentally (or not), it was the warmest I felt all day.

2. It took three stores and almost $200, but I managed to find every single item on my grocery list today, down to the very last loaf of the “right” kind of bread and the spinach tortillas Nathan requested.

3. While on the way home from store No. 3, I was behind a car with a dog hanging its head out the window. We were sitting at a red light when the sun broke through the clouds for the first time in … days? a week? And I swear that dog tilted his head up, closed his eyes, and sighed with pleasure.
   
   Me too, buddy. Me. Too.

Thirty Days of Gratitude

For the month of November, I decided to have Nathan and Ellie keep a gratitude journal. They're only six and three, but their "I want that's," I NEED that's," and "Mom, can't we please just get that's" were a little out of control. Jon and I felt like we were raising entitled, spoiled kids without even meaning to, so we decided to spend 30 days focusing on gratitude. I went to the craft store and bought a spiral bound journal and some leaves with the words “I am Thankful For:” printed on them. I think they were supposed to be place cards for Thanksgiving dinner, but they would do. Each night, after we brushed teeth and read books, both of them would name one thing they were grateful for.

Obviously this didn’t go quite as smoothly as I had orchestrated. Some nights we forgot, which meant we had to double, triple, and—once—quadruple up on our leaves. Occasionally one child would fuss at the other for “stealing” their thing they were grateful for (parenthood is a rich mine of ironic gems like that one).

But aside from the hiccups in scheduling and the squabbles, the leaves that filled our journal over the course of the month surprised me.

They were grateful for people. Their grandparents. Their cousins. Even, gasp, each other.

They were thankful for experiences. Math, art, and reading together each night.

They were grateful for God and Jesus. For our cat and Nana and Grandpa's horses. Even my three-year-old—an age which is not known for their deep sense of appreciation for their many blessings—talked about being thankful for her best friend at preschool and the pumpkins we had painted together as a family.

Glaringly absent from their leaves of gratitude? Stuff. I had expected an itemized list from Nathan of every Octonaut Gup vehicle he owns. From Ellie, I expected the same—because if there’s one thing she’s thankful for, it’s her big brother’s toys.

But that wasn’t the case. Nathan gave his toys one passing, all-encompassing mention on one day. The rest of the time they talked about how thankful they were for the realest, most lasting parts of their lives. As the month progressed, I realized maybe my worries were a little misplaced—sure, shiny toys grab their attention; they’re kids! But it’s feelings of love, acceptance, and togetherness that rule their hearts and minds.

I feel better about our prospects as we move into December, even though no matter how much of a “simple holiday season” I aim for, blind consumerism always crashes the party. Turns out the kids are all right. They know what matters most, and that’s something to be truly grateful for.