Thursday, December 30, 2010
New year's post (a bit early)
When someone mentioned New Year's resolutions a few days ago, I thought "huh?" I resolved never to make New Year's resolutions a long time ago, and that was a resolution I have stuck to. I had forgotten anyone actually engaged in the (mostly) empty promises we tend to make annually on December 31st.
This year, I would like to engage in gratitude, and not look back in regret to resolve what to do differently in the coming year.
First, I'm thankful that I have a roof over my head. I'm grateful for central heating, hot running water, a flush toilet, a stove with four burners and an oven, a refrigerator and freezer, and a big sink to wash dishes in. There are many people in the world who have none of these things. Here in America, my fridge is just a lowly fridge. It doesn't do anything except keep my food fresh and my frozen food frozen. It doesn't dispense cold water or make iced cubes. My bathroom doesn't have a jacuzzi. I don't own my own home. So what? I could be in a homeless shelter. I could be in the street. I could be living in a war torn country.
No. I am very lucky. I have a sweet cat sitting next to me in a warm room in a cold climate. Even though I am "poor" by the standards of the Internal Revenue Service, I can go the market and buy any kind of food I want. Anything! It's truly remarkable. In fact, it's an embarrassment of riches.
I have a laptop on which I can write, chat with people all over the world, and get information about anything I want in a matter of seconds. I own books, and have a great public library.
I can play the banjo. I have a huge library of music on my computer. Oh, how I'm grateful for music! Thank you to all the Baroque composers who wrote such truly awe inspiring music for God. Thank you, rock n' roll, for not dying out when my parents' generation thought it would. Thank you, country music, for being exactly what you are. Thanks to all the rappers who can rhyme. Thank you to Steve Jobs for dreaming up the iPod.
Thanks to all the sheep and other creations who supply me with fiber.
Thank you, Maine, for not quite keeping up with the rest of the country.
Thank you, life, for keeping me on my toes, and being so relentlessly interesting.
Thank you, to all the people I know, for being exactly who you are, whether that's impossible or wonderful, in-between (or all of the above, which is what most of us non-saints in fact are).
Thank you, universe. I love you.