Hey, y’all. Thanks for swinging by for my gratitude round up this week. If you are new, #SevenGratitudes is a year-long weekly series about cultivating thanksgiving in the midst of the everyday and pausing to allow our hearts and minds to catch up with the waves of grace in our lives.
I hope you'll come on and add to the thanksgiving pile up--share a gratitude with us in the comments below!
This week I am grateful…
For pancakes on Resident Row; for the friendship forge of right now.
Aaron and I love pancakes. And we are picky about them; I am especially so. We like a certain wheat-to-white ratio, a definite cinnamon and vanilla spike, and 100% Pure Maple Syrup on the side, please.
What we really like, though, is to share them with good people.
Enter our new friends here on Resident Row. The whole gang piled in Saturday morning—those folks who are doing the risking of relationship with us that I mentioned last week, the ones who said they like us and are glad to have us, THOSE ONES, our new neighbors—and my heart got so happy. The youngest among us came in footie pajamas. The oldest among us reached quickly for coffee. We all, I do think, had a very good time.
Thankful for the friendship forge of a moment that we are in right now.
For the Public Library System/FOR A BAZILLION FREE BOOKS TO READ.
Y’all, is it not amazing that this public library thing exists? This thing by which anyone and everyone is allowed to come in and share books—many books!—on any number of topics? FOR FREE. Knowledge and ideas and stories all right there for the public to peruse, peek, and pick up for the journey.
It is remarkable that we the citizens and guests of this country actually cooperate and share something so good (not to mention powerful; books are powerful things). I wonder what else we might be able to share...
For a small sign of resiliency and creativity.
Spotted on our walk back from a lunch excursion last week. This clever little tree grows right by the fence of our church columbarium.
She tells me to keep growing--around the system if need be.
For the wondrously curious good of herbs.
I have flirted with the study of herbs for a long time now; since middle school, at least. My favorite characters always respectfully employ them to, you know, save the world (Two notables: the Balitang women of Trickster’s Choice and Clare Beuchamp Randall Fraser of Outlander).
My favorite real-life superwoman, Diana Beresford-Kroeger, is “building an ark” of indigenous food-medicine wisdom (peer reviewed by Harvard, I might add) up in Canada with her husband; “the next antibiotic will come from the trees,” she said. Then there is the whole ecological-connection, “let food be thy medicine” thing that has just been reality for ages.
This week I stopped flirting and started reading, hardcore, and it is so very fascinating. Plants are amazing and beautiful. It is empowering to imagine that I might be able to foster plantlife in my backyard that could promote the health and wellness of my neighbors, family, and friends.
I want to be one of those healer folk who know which tea or tincture is needed just now. It would be an honor to be a bridge between the hurts of humankind and the waiting love of the natural world. I think that may be part of my calling. Perhaps it is a part of the human calling: to recognize, respect, and communicate the wondrous healing connections of God’s beautiful world.
Thankful for the invitation to see and know that which is good.
For the energy-positive joy of a clothesline.
The Coyle-Carrs purchased our first clothesline this week and it’s a hideous beauty of free-drying power. Thanks to the advice of friends over Facebook and a bit of research, we went with the moveable and collapsible umbrella model found here.
I love it.
Hummed my way through our inaugural load of laundry, Aaron and I both pinning up piece after piece in the dappled Dallas sun. Thankful for another step toward wholeness and justice.
For my partner’s direct line to my soul. For the gifts of mutual vulnerability.
When I am afraid, tired, angry, passionate, overwhelmed, frenzied, or frozen—
When I am too happy to think or feel or express anything but—
When I am closed off or all in or over the top—
He can say one word, submitted to my madness, and I hear him, know him, know that I am not alone.
For belly-laughs and ugly-cries via the BBC.
If you’re up for the laughs, see Would I Lie to You? Go for it and get ready to guffaw!
Seven Gratitudes Link-Up
If you would like to join in on this weekly practice of gratitude and chicanery, grab yourself a button and link up with us here every Friday morning of 2017.
- Write a listicle about your seven gratitudes each week.
- Publish your piece with a link back to my blogpost on Friday mornings.
- And then link up with the form at the bottom of the page.