Gritty Thanks

I give thanks for —

The too loud stomps up the stairs because it means her legs work.
The tears and screaming because it means he trusts us enough to be angry.
The talk-back because it means she’s developing like an adolescent ought to develop.
The Lego blocks and train parts and zillion pieces of cardboard because it means he is creating.
The sore throat because it means my body is strong enough to fight it off.
The extra hours at work, today, because it means he has a reliable job and he likes it.

The piles of laundry because they means we have clothes.
The dishes because they mean we have food.

The sting from missing those who aren’t with us any more because it means we have loved.

Today we host thanksgiving dinner. The menu is thick. The tasks are long. The emotions are wild.

I’ll take the short-tempers and the backtalk and the one more pile of Lego parts on the dining room table because it means we are a family.

A forever family.

And for this, this crazy and wild and precious family life, I give thanks.

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