Humble Pie

When I look out on the landscape of the things that I know, (that I can still remember), it seems to me that the graces of life come in the humblest of packages. The rat race of this world, which only seems to get more frantic and complicated as time goes on, is probably necessary. The wheels of commerce and the production of goods and services are vital to humanity. We still gotta eat and have some clothes to wear, no matter where we come from. The hunger and challenge of winning or producing something meaningful is good, needful. We all need purpose, whether we know it or not, but the human condition seems to like extremes. We swing wildly from one position to another, and it is always tough to find the goody in the middle  (I love that word "goody" -- reminds me of Ken's old Pop, who would used it as he was digging out a morsel of pecan from a stubborn nut or scraping up that last bit of pie. Thanksgiving always reminds me of him and his wife, Babe). 

The best people in the world are the ones who are humble at heart, who remember where they came from and who helped them get there. My worst days are when I forget that I have benefitted greatly from so many peoples' care and love, and that there is no self-made man (or woman). The very best days are when I stop and ponder my life, begin thanking God for the big and (especially) the little things, and understand the meaning of grace (unmerited favor). The day that we start believing we did something on our own is the day that it all begins to turn sour. Expectations can turn into monsters, can kill marriages and relationships, and make a disappointing mess of our lives. A better turn is to humble myself, express gratefulness to those around me, and to simmer in that goodness for a bit. 

We have trite phrases at Thanksgiving, nostalgic and sentimental commercials (I love those), and the obligatory rounds at the family gathering to say what we are grateful for...that is all good. Let us all begin a fresh year of appreciation this season. Things have been rough for awhile...pandemics, shutdowns, inflation, political mayhem. The media likes us all stirred-up -- it's what keeps us clicking and feeding their corporate machine. It's good to be informed, but what about being informed about my neighbors? About what is right in front of me, rather than something going on in outer Mongolia? Rather than a room full of people on their phones, how about we put all the phones in a bowl and concentrate on each other this Thanksgiving? 

The best marriages I've known are the ones where the spouses feel lucky that they got the other one. They look across at this fatally-flawed human but see what is good about them. On days when I've just about have enough of my husband, if I will stop and muse on what he does well, what he's gifted at, what he puts up with from me, pretty soon a rush of gratefulness comes to the top and I realize how lucky I am. I think on my parents, as opposite as two humans could be, how they would bicker sometimes and were always raw with their opinions...but they would also make up in front of us, ask forgiveness, see the good in each other. They lasted, because they were willing to be humble and grateful. 

Look up, look out, be humble, thank someone for even the smallest things, quit worrying, look at the beautiful world all around you and thank God. Preachin' to myself...  

Pause and Refresh...

Feeling just a nip in the air this morning, and here it is, nigh on mid-November. I've experienced many a Thanksgiving in shorts. Just last week, my sister and I trundled on down to Panama City for a short trip, just us two. Her universe is busy and mine is too. We talk on the phone but don't get much time to sit and talk. But we did, and resolved to do it more often. 

Laguna Beach Christian Retreat Cottages is where our children grew up going to the beach. It was cheap, simple, and they had pools, basketball, volleyball courts, and lots of cousins around. The beach is right across the street. We usually went for long stretches, a couple of weeks, twice a year. We thought Cottage #7 belonged to us. When Melanie and I arrived days ago, it was surreal to be back there, especially because we were the only two humans in the whole camp. Fortunately, they still had the heat on in the pool. We sunk our toes in the sand, talked our heads off, watched the sunset and then relaxed as we treaded water for hours in the yummy, warm pool. We ate what we wanted, Little Debbies and pasta...because then we were committing to The Great Reset after our trip. Metabolic resilience is kaput, so we have to work at it. I always had to, but didn't. She didn't have to, but now does. Go figure.

Between us, we have 2 husbands, 15 children, 12 in-laws and 34 grandchildren (so far). It's hard to get a word in edgewise, much less make any kind of girl plans. But I'm so thankful we did. As life goes along, it's easy to put up boxes and edges that cause us not to communicate with each other. A flaming sunset and a long float in the pool tends to undo those things. Our roots are good but we've been pruned all along the way. So let's get back to the bud. The honest words and love of a sister are hard to beat. 

We came home to a sea change in politics and hit our separate floors running, hardly coming up for a breath. There's Christmas to buy for, Thanksgiving food to plan, and the tree to put up. I'm tired, trying to get into bed earlier, and batch cooking some real food. That spring chicken simply will not show up these days to help me out but the show must go on.