Feeling Thankful
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and like so many others, ours will look different this year. We won't travel to visit extended family, host our huge Friendsgiving gathering or Black Friday Brunch, and the kids and I will be separated from Eric by thousands of miles with no opportunity to see him until a currently unknown date in 2021 (or 2022?). However, in a time when many people are facing significant hardship and loss, I recognize that our inconveniences and annoyances are minuscule. As we move into Thanksgiving day, I'm thinking about the lessons that I learned in 2020 and all that I have to be thankful for and reflecting on ways that I can recognize and respond to need and just be a better human.
I'm thankful for the many people in my life. Some of 2020's lessons were painful, but they were all necessary. In early 2020, my intent was to focus on my personal and professional values and implement changes that corresponded. Doing so cost me relationships, but it also strengthened bonds with friends, family, and the larger community, humbled me more than a little, taught me to lean on reliable people, and made me take a hard look at my own actions and reactions. I realized just how powerful support and encouragement can be, and I'm using that lesson to become more deliberate with my words and actions so that I can be a source of support and encouragement and return the gift that so many people gave me this year.
I'm thankful for health and access to healthcare. Gabriel has a long, complex medical history. Perhaps because of that, we've gathered a community of loved ones with a variety of healthcare concerns. Over the past 15 years, through phone calls, texts, emails, social media support groups, and in-person gatherings, we've shared their elation when things go well and their fear and heartache when they don't. In 2019, I gained a new perspective as an illness took me from jogging half marathons to the inability to walk a mile without assistance in less than a month. Early intervention, good insurance, and an excellent healthcare team helped me get back to a relatively normal life after about 10 months, but a relapse this spring was rough. I had to learn to accept limitations and let go of my pride. I also learned that I don't know what others are going through, I don't know their story, and I need to bring empathy to my interactions and leave judgement out.
I'm thankful for stability. Sure, we don't know when Eric will be home, but aside from that, our lives are stabile. This year, I've watched loved ones struggle with the loss of their partner, face an uncertain future, and do their best to simply move forward after illness, death, loss of income, or another unexpected event drastically changed the landscape of their lives. I realized just how soon my own children will be grown, and I began to worry about how they will find this world as adults and how my 16 year old will be able to manage and afford his medical care. I know that more and more people lack stability each day, and I've grown to see it as a gift that should be cherished when available and shared when possible.
I'm thankful for this life, happiness, hardship, friends and family, community, grief, and opportunities for learning and growth. Although, truth be told, I could use a small break from learning opportunities. I think we all could. Even though it will be different, I hope that your Thanksgiving is filled with love, kindness, and support, and I hope that we all come out of this long year and this challenging time together.
P.S. Yep, this photo is from last year sometime because I haven't paused long enough to take a photo with my kids this year.