​     On this day after Thanksgiving I could be talking in my usual way about gratitude--what we’re grateful for, what we ‘should’ be grateful for, personal graitudes, and gratitudes for the world. I’m all in for these kinds of expressions, but today I’m thinking of the power of stating gratitude in positive terms. For example, “How wonderful we can get out for a walk,” instead of, “Well at least it is not raining.”
     Speaking positively keeps me away from making judgments. I more apt to see people for who they are, rather than who they are not.
   So, on this day after Thanksgiving, I am grateful for friends and family just as they are, and for the food just as it was prepared and served. 

     I feel mysteriously calm about yesterday’s election results. No, not all of my candidates won, but enough did to make me think that democracy is still at work. It’s not the thinking that brought on the calm, but the realization that not everyone agrees with me, and that’s okay because good is prevailing. I feel hopeful.
     My words may sound trite and obvious, but my feelings aren’t. These feelings of relief, acceptance, compassion, and love for all human beings are hard to come by. They are deep and yet light. This morning they got me out for an early walk to appreciate the beauty and freedom of the moment. Very grateful, very hopeful. 

With all the action going on these days—Boston’s World Series win and the midterm elections coming up tomorrow—I’ve decided to take the day for silence, solitude, and simplicity. Reading, writing, meditating, knitting, and visiting some friends who are now spending their days in assisted living facilities.
I tell you this not because I think YOU need to settle into life’s big picture, but because I know that’s what I need.
Memories of wisdom from friends and family help. My mom would be telling me to go out and do something for someone else. A friend recently told me that when she gets up she tells herself, “Let me not make this day about me.” My husband and I, when we remember, start the day offering a couple of gratitudes, one for the world, one for ourselves. Reading, writing, knitting, and meditating always settles me down.
All of these actions touch on silence, solitude, and simplicity; not always out there in my everyday life, but in my heart.

​I took this picture on my walk this morning. While photographing I was greeted by a friendly and chatty dog, followed from around the corner of the house by the owner.
      Me being friendly and chatty: Gorgeous tree…. we must be grateful.... in fact, I’m taking a gratitude walk.
     My neighbor being friendly and chatty: That’s why I’m doing in my back yard…. Sitting and being grateful. 

      Oh, the lazy days of summer. A slow pace for this blog. Here’s a little catch up.
     Most important is Wheaties. Thank you thank you to the several friends who have bought me a box or two. For now, the shelves have been replenished, although with the old design. I have not idea what to expect when these are consumed. And, how long will that take? Which gets me wondering how long those little wheat flakes sit in a box—months? Years?
     Last week my husband and I spent two night in Vermont, and this weekend we return for a family reunion. Thankfully the three and a half hour drive is primarily along winding roads through idyllic New England towns.
     Some friends just sent me long lists of books they are reading, so tonight, as I listen to the Red Sox beat the Yankees for the fourth time in a row, I will go on line and see what books I can get from inter-library loan.
     Life is good and for that, I am very grateful.

     Here are this morning’s gratitudes:
•  I’m grateful I had the freedom to nurse my two children.
•  I’m grateful that I am sooooo angry that nursing children are being taken (grabbed) from their mother’s     breast at our Mexican border.
       I can’t believe that my gratitude has to do with anger. As I’ve written before, every morning my husband and I start the day saying what we’re grateful for. Those ought to be positive, right? And they usually are because isn’t that the nature of gratitude? Isn’t that how we want to live?
     But this is a totally new concept for me (and I’m sure I’m not alone), this separating nursing mothers and children. Separating is bad enough, but taking a baby from the breast? Child abuse is hardly a strong enough term. Is there any argument that says it’s not child abuse? I’m not saying abusive in some general, vague term. I’m using the full term: CHILD ABUSE.
     Who are these people who physically carry out this child abuse? Border guards, men and women. I assume that more of them are men, because that’s the kind of job men have. A few may be women, but I can’t imagine any woman would grab a child from a mother’s breast. More likely the women border guards are probably in the detention centers comforting children and mothers.
     I assume that these border guards are citizens of this democracy called the United States of America. How can these men and women stand by and be complicit in this child abuse? They need the job to support their families and they are powerless—the two go together; I get that. I also get that that is what German citizens said as they unwittingly participated in Hitler’s cult, which let to the Nazi state. And now, our the United States government, via the president, is requiring its citizens to participate in immoral and unethical acts against fellow human beings.
      I’m angry but refuse to admit I’m powerless. I have to believe that I am a citizen of a democracy. I can speak out against this child abuse, but is there something more to do?

     Today is my mom’s birthday. She would have been 108, but good for her and lucky for me, she lived to over 101. As many of you know, Mom’s last words, thirteen days before she died, were, ‘Very Grateful.’ Although I lived with her daily demonstrations of gratitude, I became more conscious of the gratitudes in my life as I wrote about our last two years together in Very Grateful: The Story of My Hundred Year Old Mother and Me.
     Truth be told, it is easy for me to wake up every morning and list all the gratitudes in my life. But as I look at the lot of many, I am challenged for the world and for individuals.
     Choice comes to mind. I have so many that I can sum them up by saying, “I am grateful for all the choices in my life,” and get on with my day.You know what I’m talking about because most of you reading this blog have myriad choices, too: food, clothing, shelter. I’m not talking minimum, I’m taking about choices as in excess. I’m not talking minimum, I’m talking about big life choices.
      Separating migrant families at our Mexican border expunges the word choice from the vocabulary of those literally starving for a better life… and, I imagine for some of the border patrollers carrying out such a mandate. I have to stay hopeful about this. Hope is a choice, and a grateful one, to be sure.