Today I am thankful. Late on this Sunday morning, I sit surrounded by the flotsam and jetsam of a teacher’s life with report cards fast approaching. The kettle on the wood stove hisses and simmers emitting a gentle flow of steam. The windows frame a frosty scene of glistening icicles and snow-laden branches. My three-legged geriatric cat, draped on the arm of the couch, leans against my back. Before me rest a bowl of cranberry-studded oatmeal and a steaming cup of coffee.
My two oldest children are home from college for break and my youngest, heading to college next year, isn’t yet at work. I listen to the murmurs and stops and starts of their conversation in the adjacent room. The harmonies of those varied tones warm me on this bitter cold winter’s day. I try to push aside the stress of unfinished work and relax into this one small moment, banal yet profound.
Yesterday I heard about the 12 year old daughter of a college acquaintance who has suffered a sudden and frightening lower extremity paralysis. While I don’t know her, tears well as I read her parent’s blog. I learn about her calm acceptance of repeated invasive and uncomfortable testing and I imagine her parents’ fear and pride as they watch their 12-year old face adversity with grace. I imagine them trying to navigate this turn in their lives — this terrifying intimidating medical maze and I ache for them.
With full awareness of my good fortune, I listen again to those murmuring voices of my children. At this one small moment all is right with my world. I am so thankful.