Pam of Rhett’s Journey tagged me while ago, and it took me some time (this happens a lot!) to figure out what I mean to say.
I’m thankful everyday for everything: I never imagined I could have a husband like Tom, or that I’d be the mother to 3 such terrific little people. My family is large (I have an expanded definition of family and you all are included!) and diverse and amazing and inspiring. And I have all the important things to be grateful for: a warm house in winter, a cool one in summer. Food for all of us. Clothes to cover our bodies, shoes and coats and mittens when we need them. Good health. Good work.
All-in-all, good times.
But these things aren’t what I mean to write about, even though I am deeply, profoundly grateful for them. What I want to write about is something that came to me as a bit of a surprise.
Just 4 years ago, when the twins were in the NICU and Avery was diagnosed with Down syndrome and everything, even the expiration date on the yogurt container, seemed full of portent, full of doom, it hurt to hope. It hurt to think that maybe my life might one day feel comfortable to me again; that I might wake to the sun streaming through the windows and think, What’s in store? with a happy sense of expectation. It all seemed like a distant memory–or, in my worst moments, like a cruel illusion.
But I want to say that the thing I am most thankful for is this: the return of hope. In the 4 years since the babies were born, we worked, we worried, we laughed. The babies grew to boys; Carter, to a big-boy. And now, it’s started: I’m dreaming again, wishing for things and imagining the possibilities. It’s always the beginning, for all of us, as long as we have hope.
Instead of tagging someone, I’ll just ask: What are you most thankful for?