Gratitude

NOTE: I just found this post that I had written on Thanksgiving weekend and for some reason, only saved as a draft. After reading it now, almost a month later, I'm convinced I was meant to revisit it and be taken by surprise. And I was.

So here I am, late on a Sunday night at the end of a wonderful weekend of Thanksgiving. As usual, the holiday reminds me again that giving thanks should be done on a perennial basis. Especially after the fullness of this short year. I never got around to posting about October, but then there really aren't enough words to express what it was like to lay the groundwork for the future of the Fund, brick by brick. And I can't possibly paint an accurate picture of my heart as a mother watching her son mark his first year. What I can say is that I am thankful...for each and every experience in my life. The sum of these parts is where I am today, exactly where I am supposed to be.

Listening to the radio this morning, I heard an angry man, asking the question I've heard asked countless times before. There have been books written about it. We've all asked it ourselves at one time or another. "Why do bad things happen?" But this man was so unwilling to hear any answer. His anger stood in the way of really being able to explore the question. And as he busied himself with arguing and continuous questioning, I realized that maybe he didn't really want an answer. He just wanted someone to listen. He didn't want to still be feeling the pain of whatever had caused him to ask this question in the first place.

I can certainly understand not liking the feeling of pain. Who does? But where, or more importantly, WHO would we be without it? Take away the heartache and tragedy you have experienced in your life, but don't forget to take the lessons learned, the growth achieved, the inspirations that came with that hurt. It's a fine balance, but that's how it works, all or nothing.

Jon and I have said it to each other many times before. What wouldn't we give to have Elena back? To see her turning 3 years old, chasing butterflies, running into the house with skinned knees. But to have her here would be to have never known Isaiah, to have never discovered all those other precious families in the shadows, to have never learned all that she taught me in her special way. I'm thankful that God is in control, I just couldn't bear to make decisions like that.

Yes, I'm thankful. I can't imagine being anything else.