Giving thanks

Although it is officially Thanksgiving today, I won't have mine until Saturday, when the kids can come home. They and their families are with their respective in-laws. It doesn't really bother me to put Thanksgiving off, because I am so proficient at procrastination that it feels normal to me to be late with something. Besides, it gave me a chance to work a few hours for a little extra money, and gave me time to watch the Macy's parade without keeping an eye on the oven to make sure the pies don't burn.

That said, today is Thanksgiving Day, and I wanted to post a short note. I am thankful that this web site offers me the opportunity to have a blog, for one thing. It's free publishing! Like keeping a journal, it requires me to process my thoughts every once in awhile - to try to make sense out of life; to remind myself of where I'm going and how I'm getting there; to remember that my life, no matter how mundane or anxiety-ridden, is still full of humor and wonder.

And, of course, a blog would not be a true blog without its readers. Chris is totally amused by my blog. He thinks I am having an Internet conversation with...well, mostly my sister. Au contraire, Chris - I have an extensive reader base! (I'm laughing here, but hey, you never know who is reading when anyone in the world can access it!) I know some folks have stumbled onto here by sheer accident, and others are just curious to find out what the old lady said today. Some people read this just to see what Caroline is up to, I would imagine. Some of my readers are family members; some are people I have never had the privilege to meet.

Nonetheless, I am thankful for each person who reads any of this, from those who have glanced at a single post to the others who are following this blog on a regular basis. By reading, you are helping me make sense out of my life, and for that, I am grateful. You are giving me a chance to reminisce, and for that I am grateful. You are giving me an opening to brag about my kids and grandkids, and for that I am grateful.

It's very intriguing to have Internet "relationships." Those of you who frequent various chat rooms and boards understand what I am talking about. My favorite medical transcription site in particular has brought together a diverse group of ladies with only one thing in common - our line of work. Most of us have never met anyone else on the site in person. We live all over the country, and some beyond that, and there is the high probability that we will never meet one another. Yet when one has a birthday, we all cheer, and when one has to tend to a sick father, we all give support, and when one's beloved pet dies, we all mourn. A strange kind of community - strangers, yet friends. We've shared gripes and craft projects and pictures of our children and grandchildren. We've posted about the perils of getting older, the anxiety of finding a new job, the frustration of poor dictators.

So in a way, I'm also thankful for the Internet. It has brought me to you (whoever you may be!) and you to me, in some unfathomable relationship that I will never understand and probably am only beginning to appreciate. Thanks for accompanying me on the journey.

Seeking treasure

While I was staying at the Beckwith house to help with new baby Charlotte, Rachel and I decided to take the baby on an excursion into Bangor, leaving Caroline home with Dad. Chris is one of those interactive dads who use their creative juices to, as he said, "raise the bar" for other babysitters (moms included, unfortunately, says Rachel). Accordingly, he decided they would have a treasure hunt.

He gathered some blank index cards and painstakingly drew very detailed pictures of places in the house, with an arrow to "mark the spot" where the next clue could be found. He started Caroline off at the refrigerator, where the first index card was attached. She examined the picture. As this idea was new to her, Chris initially had to give her leading questions to help her figure out what the treasure hunt exactly was and how it operated, but she learned quickly, going from one clue to the next.

The final index card showed a drawing of her bed, with an arrow pointing to the pillow. She felt all around the pillow, and finally lifted the pillow up and threw it back. There it was - the treasure - a wooden letter "I."

What kind of treasure is that, you might ask? As you wonder about the choice of such a mundane object, you may also consider this: Not only was this wooden treasure "untreasure-like" in its characteristics, it was something she already owned. Caroline owns a wooden puzzle which spells out her name in individual colored letters. The "I" had been missing for quite awhile, and all attempts to locate it had been fruitless. And there it was - right under her pillow - as if by magic!

Chris had the foresight to videotape the whole treasure hunt so Rachel and I could share in Caroline's adventure. He told us he had found the wayward "I" by accident, and instead of just giving it to her outright, he had decided to have some fun in the process. And Caroline truly enjoyed the hunt and the discovery of her precious "treasure."

Some experiences in life are hard to squeeze meaning from, like one of those diaper wipes that loses its moisture after sticking out of the little box too long in the air (I guess you can tell what I've been doing all week). Other experiences just ache to be commented on, and this, obviously is one of those.

We are all searching for life's meaning, the treasure that makes the journey worthwhile, interpreting clues on what to do next and where to go with our resources. Sometimes we need to be reminded that the journey itself is the adventure. And in the end, when we find that the "treasure" is something we already had inside of us the whole time, we are not disappointed, but instead are flat-out amazed! (Is it just coincidence that identity starts with an I?) The only regret is that it takes some of us so long to discover it.

There - I just had to say it. Sermon over!