Sarah's Books - Used & Rare

It's that time of year again, around here.  The annual holiday of thankfulness approaches.  And while I continually attempt to live life from a place of gratitude, this year I find myself feeling more thankful than ever.  Difficult times have come and gone, and I weathered them all somehow, and emerged with a renewed and heightened sense of appreciation.  For peace and contentment.  For those days when nothing in particular happens and everyday chores and tasks become lustrous and shining in their pure ordinariness.  I could almost weep over being able to read a stack of books for pleasure, or follow a line of inquiry through a series of paintings, or bake gingerbread, or put up some pretty curtains and recognize the cheerfulness they bring to an already sunny room.  All the stuff of daily life.  How ridiculously grateful I feel for the smallest things!  When a blizzard passes by, as it did last week, and then the snow finally melts away, as it did this week, and I see underneath all the small green things still growing - still going - I have to think That is the way to live.  Storms arise.  And they also depart.  Meanwhile all the small things of life continue, regardless, in their due season.  It's up to us to notice, take heart, and say thank you. 

These are such old chestnuts, aren't they, the commonplace thoughts that make up traditional holiday fare.  But what is sweeter, truly, than gratitude for what arises, storms and peace both.  One illuminates the other.  Blessings on your thanksgiving table, whatever your personal forecast.