Cold, Lovely Thanksgiving

It's bleeding cold this morning, in my bleary, foggy and tortured state. I hate that it takes me near half the day to feel normal, though that's not new to me. I've always looked askance at morning people. I don't trust their fresh perkiness at 5:00 a.m. (enter my husband). If he sees that I am awake, the happy sunrise squirrel that he is, I should always listen carefully. This is when all his words pile out like so many gems. But by the time the sun dips below the horizon in the evening, the man has gone back into his cave, no squirrel to be found. How God can make two people more opposite, I will never know. 

Camping is usually done in the warmer times of the year. That's what sane people do. They don't wait until November, when the floor feels like an ice cube and it's so cold that the water heater won't work. But that's what we did....hauled our cute little Love Shack up to Hiawassee last weekend, with one of our sons and his family. I love my little camper. It was ugly and brown when I bought it last year, but I dolled it up with cream, turquoise and coral pink paint, even painted the wheel hubs pink. People keep trying to buy it off me, but I also keep resisting. It's just so adorable. Then again, it's teeny-tiny, and Ken and I are built more like Vikings who've had a bit too many potatoes. After this last trip to icicle land, I'm tempted to cash in and buy another camper, bigger and probably uglier, so that we don't have to squeeze into it like stiff old sardines. I'll have to start over on all the cutesy stuff, but that's okay. I'm not busy enough as it is, so I'll have to add a project to my life. I wish that were true. My project list is about to topple what's left of my sanity.

So here we are, another crazy year, another crazy season. Everyone's standing on the rooftops yelling about the Apocalypse. We're all hoarding something, worrying about how we're going to have Christmas and biting each other over our political preferences. Mind you, I think we have humongous things at stake right now and we all need to be on our knees. And maybe that's just it... it's Thanksgiving. Just in time. Can we all stop for a day, or a week, or a month....can we stop and look outside ourselves? Thank your Mama, your Daddy, even if it's just that you somehow arrived here breathing. Thank your mailman, the Amazon guy, the lady who waits your table. Think of the people in your life who have blessed you, who have stopped along their way to make sure you were taught, were fed, were helped. We all have them, somewhere along that path. And then, ultimately, thank the Creator God who made this beautiful earth and sky, who made your DNA so uniquely that there's no one just like you. Stand in your yard or on your front stoop or in the street and look to the hills, from whence cometh our help. Bless God. Bless others. Let's love someone today.