Wait. I'm thirsting to death!

... said my roommate to me when she walked in the door and I with guitar in hand told her I wanted to dedicate a song to her. I waited for her to fetch a beverage. “Okay, go,” she urged.

Probably for my final formal posted installment of all things gratitude, I grateful for good people… and my roommates are some of them.

This same roommate later on needed to run an errand and commented how her Jeep was out of gas. “Take the civic,” I offered. “I just filled her up yesterday.”

Of course I drive a mazda 626. The civic is indeed hers (yes, she is a two car woman) which she has been so hospitable to lend to me while my car, heaven help us all, is yet again out of commission and has been since Saturday.

Yet to know her is to know that even though this vehicle is hers, she’s just that nice that you’d have to offer it back to her. She’d never presume to reclaim it under my usage.

The best part is this girl is not a push over. She is a sassy little thing. But good people exist in this world. Better people than me. And I’m grateful for that. I’m grateful for them.

What Is It About... Certainly Not Me

I must confess, I’ve been excited to write this post for a few days.

I decided to make a goal to post on the 5th, 10th, 15th, 20th, and 25th entries of gratitude leading up to THE day of thanksgiving.

I made the goal with the intent to force myself to at least be grateful on those days having no foreknowledge I might actually be thankful on days in between. And I’m entirely excited for this one.

I am grateful for feeling blessed on days when I feel like I least deserve it.

I’m incredibly aware of my personal faults and flaws on any given day. I fall subject to many follies which beset mankind.

There are days when life is good, I’m very happy, and everything is going smoothly. On these days, I take little time to feel blessed. Then there are days when life is bad, I’m very miserable, and everything keeps getting screwed up. On these days, I take little time to feel blessed.

On the occasional day I feel blessed, it’s commonly a result of something going my way and the emotion which accompanies is a sort of giddiness. I smile. I laugh. I am… well giddy. Yet this is NOT the emotion I reference today.

There are moments in this world when you are going about your days knowing you could do better, be better.

You are indifferent to anything outside of yourself and apathetic towards yourself.

Then when you think no one is noticing, something INCREDIBLE happens to you. And you are immediately aware this is the result of nothing you’ve done and certainly nothing you’ve earned.

There is one source you know to offer up essential gratitude but the emotion is not giddiness. It is debt.

And it is a purer form of feeling blessed than anything else I know. I’m awed. I am overwhelmed. I… weep.

For THIS unpolluted, unsullied, authentic blessing which has absolutely nothing to do with me and everything to do with an altruistic Gift, I am grateful.

The Recipe

It was 5:34pm on a Friday afternoon. I was exhausted from my work week and excited to get home and get on with my evening plans.

I was wearing a black long sleeved shirt, a black knee length skirt, and fantastic black boots worth every last penny I spent on them. I had my bag strewn on my shoulder, my keys and security badge in my right hand and a bright red covered, holiday edition of “O” magazine in the other. I looked every bit the part of an executive woman ready leave.

As I journeyed to the glass door which separates my department from the general lobby of our building, I prematurely threw the force of my body into this door before I had adequately pushed the release bar to liberate the latch which secures shut the access.

Upon so doing, the most thunderous crash, followed by a metal scraping discharge of lever, while finishing with a pop from the sheer forcing of the door open drew all of the attention of the my two male co-workers lounging in the lobby to me.

A great deal of laughter commenced. The boys were roaring in amusement and I myself broke out in the most lively, hilarious mirth I’d experienced in an extended period of time.

My high school choir teacher once paid me one of the greatest compliments I have ever been given. One I have frequently treasured and thought upon when labeled with characteristics such as boisterous and the likes.

She told me she couldn’t help but laugh every time I laughed. She told me my laugh was one of the most authentically jubilant laughs of all the people she knew. She said I laughed from the toes of my feet to the hair on my head and was certain every part of my body partook in it.

In my more recent adulthood, for many reasons the world feels more comfortable with, I have learned to stifle this hearty laugh of mine. I have scaled back and toned down my merriment to be more appropriate for public displays of gaiety.

Yet on this darkening, autumn, Friday evening, I laughed what I have long since laughed. And I felt it in my toes and on my head.

The boys joked, “sheesh, you couldn’t wait one more second to get out of here, could you?” which sent us each into this gleeful fit all over again.

I’m grateful for laughter. This often socially inappropriate, audacious, roaring bellow of goodness which tingles life into every element of my being. I love when others laugh. However, I love it more when I get to do it myself. The sound of laughter is medicine.

A Flashlight

There are times when you find yourself lost, marching in the middle of the night on unfamiliar ground.

In these times you become wide-eyed and your alertness is heightened. Each one of your senses deeply awakened. Every sensation intensifies.

The moment to panic vanishes immediately in a desperate desire to survive.

Every resource you’ve been taught you could use is gone and as you look around, you’re overcome with a realization you may not make it. A feeling of defeat. The awful true knowledge that every last drop in your reservoir of faith has been used.

Yet in this final minute, this instant of despair, is when you stumble into a new reserve you were never aware existed. A sister quality of faith.

HOPE. And this is a tremendously grand experience. Mind-blowing in all its revitalizing abilities.

Then air starts to seep into your lungs. Your clenched fists fall to your sides and begin to release. Your jaw relaxes.

I am grateful to have experienced everything which has brought me to this moment.

To be taught again and again of pain, without any exposure to it, is to know next to nothing of pain. Still pain is a commodity the world has much of and anyone with a pulse will be subject to.

Nevertheless hope, a highly examined contemplation in most any philosopher’s mind, may rarely find dwelling in any given person. It shows up in the darkest of hours. It's the unlikely choice a person makes while having every reason to choose anything else.

Though if you do, it's like kicking into rock. Yet when you bend down to observe the damage, you discover a flashlight.

Do, Re, Mi in November

I look forward to every Tuesday. Even as I type this sentence, I feel like I've breeched this topic before. Nonetheless, I look forward to every Tuesday.

This is the day in which media drops, an industry term meaning albums, dvds, and books are released to the public for review and purchase.

I am an avid music lover. I know many people are these days and I don't begrudge sharing this hobby with mankind. In a world where it seems the hearts of men are waxing cold, music is a very simple, very powerful way to invoke emotion from even the most apathetic spirited person.

So the very first thing I’m thankful for this season is the gift of music. For the insightful words of wisdom gathered from inspired hopefuls around the world.

For a crucial escape from any agonizing moment.

For the soundtrack to giggling with the girls in my bed late on Saturday nights, baking pumpkin chocolate chip cookies and decided if blended oatmeal is a good substitute for wheat flour, and mostly for any good spiritual experience.

Music has almost always been the vehicle to bring me back to my divine disposition.

I am grateful to the many writers, singers, and producers who have sacrificed much to bring it to me. Music enhances my life and I, personally, am enormously grateful for it.