I stared at my writing calendar in disbelief.
How is it possible? I wondered. The Thanksgiving column, AGAIN!?
In 10-plus years of writing this twice-monthly column, I’m almost positive the Thanksgiving writing duty has mostly fallen in my lap.
Oh, I know colleague Stefanie Pettit has tackled it a time or two – but still, that’s a lot of gratitude, and frankly, I’ve been feeling less than grateful lately.
There’s no rule or commandment that says a column published on Thanksgiving Day must invoke that topic, yet I feel a certain obligation to at least acknowledge the holiday. Imagine having a column run on Christmas Day and writing about cats.
Never mind. I’ve probably done that.
Sighing, I pulled up my files and scanned my list of previous turkey day topics.
Thankful after windstorm? Check.
Eating at the kids’ table? Check.
Black Friday? Check.
Thankful for appliances? Check.
Empty chairs around the table? Check.
I poured another cup of coffee and pondered the problem. A slippery slope, because rumination opened a floodgate of negativity as I recalled the difficult past few weeks.
I’d rather write about the things I’m NOT thankful for, I thought.
And the column took shape in my mind.
I’m not thankful for a deeply personal betrayal and the resulting loss and grief.
I’m not thankful for a health scare that knocked me for a loop and made me miserable.
I’m not thankful for a change in finances that put upcoming travel plans in jeopardy.
I’m not thankful for another trip to the emergency room with my ailing mother.
I’m not thankful that the above issues resulted in me putting my Court Appointed Special Advocate volunteer work on hold.
Typing this list made me feel worse.
Abandoning the column-in-progress, I did what I so often do when stymied by a project. I laced up my walking shoes and headed out the door into a dank, gray November drizzle that perfectly reflected my mood.
Here’s the deal: I’ve never thought of myself as an optimist or a pessimist; I’m solidly in the realist camp. What is is, and feelings don’t change facts.
Yet as I shuffled through soggy leaves, I kept finding bits of gold and copper that gleamed against the asphalt, despite the dreary day. The juxtaposition sparked a glint of joy.
My mood lifted, my thoughts cleared and I mentally reviewed and reframed my list of woes.
That hurtful betrayal opened a door to healing in other, far more important relationships.
Dealing with a miserable illness made me realize just how blessed I’ve been with good health, and how easily I take that for granted.
The financial changes allowed Derek and me to reconsider our long-range plans, and we decided to pay off our mortgage. It felt amazing to walk out of the bank debt-free.
This ER visit with Mom had a profound difference. Not only did she check out fine, but instead of returning to an empty house, she returned to a safe community filled with kind people who watch over her.
Letting go of my volunteer responsibilities for a while has freed me to focus on family, and on friendships that are essential to surviving hard times.
I trudged on. The clouds didn’t magically part. The rain didn’t lessen. Yet I was overcome with gratitude.
Like finding bits of gold in soggy November leaves, discovering joy in the midst of sadness changes perception and opens your heart to new possibilities.
And I have never been more thankful for the privilege of writing another Thanksgiving column.
Contact Cindy Hval at firstname.lastname@example.org. She is the author of “War Bonds: Love Stories From the Greatest Generation.” You can listen to her podcast “Life, Love and Raising Sons” at SpokaneTalksOnline.com. Her previous columns are available online at spokesman.com/ columnists. Follow her on Twitter at @CindyHval.