Thanksgiving was busy. Cooking, cleaning and entertaining friends and family. Today I’m able to relax and fully embrace gratitude. 

I’m grateful that the child who ran off into our yard after supper last night and hid while we desperately called him and set off a full-on manhunt is not my kid. It’s the little things that count, like the fact that my kids say, “Yeah?” or “WHAT?” when I call for them.

I’m grateful I’m not a missionary on a mission to convert the most indigenous tribe on the planet to Christianity, thereby falling to my death by a Spear Squad. I’d be like, “HOLD ON, HOLD ON. Drop the spears. Stop throwing spears! We need to talk. Let’s make a fire. With your spears. I brought a lighter. I will supply you with a lifetime of BIC lighters in exchange for you not spearing me to death.”

And now I’m judging my choices of gratitude.

In all seriousness I am grateful for sustenance, a home and health. I will never be able to reconcile the human condition that exists in this messy world. I know there are as many good warriors as there are bad. And the warriors that live on the most remote island on the planet are not the ones to mess with.

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