thanksgiving

A BLUE AND GRAY RIBBON

/ middlesisterkathleen / 5 Comments

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A BLUE AND GRAY RIBBON

Imagine your immune system as an army, armed and ready to fight off any and all enemies.   It is a well-trained, disciplined and dedicated team of soldiers.  When an invader, such as a cold or the flu tries to take over, your immune system soldiers mobilize and defeat the enemy.

Most of the time, they do their job quite well.  They recognize the enemy and they know the allies in your body as well.  They are there to protect and serve them.  They do their best, but unfortunately, sometimes we still get sick.  Mercifully, most of us bounce back from illness, and our immune system army has been made even stronger having this battle behind them.

Now, imagine that this army has had a mutiny; the soldiers decide to fight for the other team, and an evil and dictatorial military leader has taken over.  He is commanding them to attack their own.  And they do.

This is what an autoimmune disease does.  The immune system sees its own body, its own master, its own homeland as the enemy, so it attacks.

Type One Diabetes is an autoimmune disease, long with a too-long list of other diseases, including:

*rheumatoid arthritis

*multiple sclerosis

*celiac disease

*Lupus

*Psoriasis

*Grave’s Disease

*Scleroderma

*alopecia

*myocarditis

*amyloidosis

*Crohn’s Disease

And the list goes on for far too long.

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When a person has an immune system disorder, the immune system cannot be recruited back, cannot be re-programmed to return to fight in its homeland, for the home team.  It must be countered with multiple medical interventions.

And so, the life of a Type One Diabetic must depend upon these interventions.  Pictured below is Lydia’s first year of insulin and supplies.

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Maybe you knew already, but I didn’t.  And I thought I learned a lot in the last year since Gail’s daughter Lydia was diagnosed with Type One Diabetes.  But I didn’t know that:

*Type One Diabetes is the second most common chronic illness in children, behind asthma.

*Children are often misdiagnosed with a virus, acid reflux, sinus infection, urinary tract infection or strep throat.

*Type One Diabetes mortality is greatest in infants, toddlers and preschoolers due to lack of diagnosis and dehydration.

*Almost all cases are diagnosed before age 40, with the vast majority before 18.

*By 2050, the incidence in teenagers and children is predicted to triple, with the average age increasing.

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What a difference a year makes.  Thirteen months ago, Gail’s daughter Lydia was handed a diagnosis that would forever change her life.  Forever.  As in, every day for the rest of her life.  As in, if she doesn’t monitor her blood sugar and act accordingly, she could die.

She has no choice but to act.  She doesn’t get a day off, not even on Thanksgiving Day.  So, this Thanksgiving holiday, she will not be able to simply eat whatever she wants and pay the price only in feeling stuffed and sleepy.  She will have to plan ahead, by counting the carbohydrates in everything she plans to eat, right down to the creamy sauce in the green bean casserole.  While I, and everyone else in our family simply eat whatever we choose—and likely too much of it—she will be monitoring her intake of all those luscious carbohydrates—mashed potatoes and gravy, dressing, dinner rolls, pumpkin pie and cake, pecan pie, as well any and all sauces, condiments, snacks and drinks.  She will have to pre-empt any blood sugar spikes by injecting herself with insulin before she eats, something she does 4-6 times every day, every day of the year.  And she will do it with her sweet smile, as all of us simply eat without thinking about the possible consequences.

“Thanksgiving is coming around and I love to eat all the sweets but let me tell you about my mom’s stuffing–it’s soooooo good!  I plan on eating as much as I want, so I will dial up the insulin in my pen, and I will cut back on the sweets so I can eat more potatoes and stuffing.”  –Lydia, on anticipating Gail’s locally famous Thanksgiving dressing.

***********

Because I am a word nerd, and I like to know word origins, I decided to look up the word “stroke.”  Having worked with strokes for about 20 years at the time, I wondered why we call it as such.

From several online sources, I gleaned this information:  As far back as 500 years ago, when someone had a stroke and they truly had no idea what had happened to that person in just one moment, they decided that person must have been stroked by the hand of God.

Now, 500+ years later, we know more about strokes than we did then—not everything, of course, but we still call it a stroke.

Diabetes: Greek—to siphon.  One source reports it was named in the 1560’s by Aretaeus the Cappadocian, a Greek physician.  Another states it was named in 1552 by Hesy-Ra, an Egyptian physician.  Named as such because of the excess sugar found in blood and urine, as if it has been siphoned.  Excess urination is a classic sign of diabetes.

As you can see, I had to know where the word diabetes came from, too.

Gail is a word nerd, too.  She told me that she recalls being fascinated by the term islets(pronounced eyelets) of Langerhans in high school anatomy/physiology.  They are regions that house the cells in the pancreas that produce insulin, the absent hormone that causes Type One Diabetes.  Little did she know that almost 40 years later, her daughter would be lacking these cells, causing her to develop Type One Diabetes.

***********

In Not Her Type, (February 4th),  I wrote about the differences between Type One and Type Two diabetes.  If I can reiterate one point I made then, it is this:  there is no known method of prevention or cure for Type One.

If I may paint a picture with words, it would be this:  imagine having to find a way to pump your own heart, and expand and compress your lungs because they can no longer do it on their own.  In Type One Diabetes, the medical interventions are in place to find a way to replace the insulin the pancreas no longer produces, so that the food you eat can be converted to glucose in order to provide the fuel to make your body go.  Just like when your car runs out of gas and can no longer go, the body runs out of glucose, which is your fuel. And then, just like your car, you can no longer go.

 

***********

November is Diabetes Awareness Month.

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Perhaps you are tired of yet another “awareness” campaign, another month dedicated to awareness of yet another disease you don’t have to worry about.  I get it.  I get how you may feel bombarded by yet another colored ribbon.  I’m not here to say you should focus on diabetes awareness above all others.  Like every other diagnosis/disease, it is best to know the symptoms, so that you may save your own life or that of someone you love.

In addition, if you already know someone who is affected, it is a gesture of caring and concern to educate yourself about what they are going through with their disease.

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Type One Diabetes was formerly called “Juvenile Diabetes,” because it was typically diagnosed in childhood.  This is still the case, but not always.  A close friend’s brother was diagnosed at age 51 since Lydia’s diagnosis.  I can now speak the language with her, because I understand it so much better.

While the exact level of association is widely estimated, there is a genetic link in Type One diabetes.  My friend also has a nephew—her brother’s blood relative—who has Type One Diabetes.  Unfortunately, their family already spoke the language.  To my knowledge, Lydia has no close relatives with Type One Diabetes.

***********

So, Lydia has Type One Diabetes, but it doesn’t have her.

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She fights it every day, measuring her blood sugar, then counting carbs before she eats them, and, finally,

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injecting herself with insulin.

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**********

“I feel a thousand times better than I did before I was diagnosed, but when I go to bed at night I wonder how I will feel when I wake up as some mornings I don’t feel great.  I try to remedy this feeling at bedtime by eating something with carbs, then protein by helping my blood sugar to remain at a safe level.”

“Sometimes I wonder if I should eat carbs because insulin is so expensive.  I dread taking shots to cover the carbs, but I have gotten used to it.”

Most of us only worry about what carbs will look like on our hips, not on our bank account.

**********

Please enjoy Thanksgiving dinner this week.  If you are not diabetic, be sure to give thanks for that gift.

If you have Type One Diabetes, don’t let it have you, and please enjoy your Thanksgiving dinner.

If you are close to someone with Type One Diabetes, let them know you are thankful they are fighting the good fight.  They really have no choice, but hearing this from you will be a gift to them.

Stay aware, keep fighting and give thanks.  You Can Do It.

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Thank you, Lydia, for raising my awareness.  You are a warrior.

***********

The response to last week’s post, “The Magnificent Seven,” which introduced you to the Greif sisters and their travels, was overwhelming.  If you and your sisters have a story to tell–travels or no travels, or if you know an amazing group of sisters who stand out among sisters, please let us know.

 

 

 

GIVE THANKS

/ middlesisterkathleen / 3 Comments

 

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THANK YOU

“If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is ‘thank you,’ that will be enough.”    Meister Eckhart

Our country celebrated my favorite holiday last week.  I celebrated with my husband’s family on Thursday, and my family on Saturday.  I try to celebrate it alone every day. I try to find small and large things to be grateful for.  Some days, I know I don’t try hard enough.  When I give it my best, I get the best in return.

I find more peace.  More joy.  More awareness of so many more things I need to be grateful for.  More awareness of how rich life can be when I focus on the good.

I am now grateful for things that used to drag me down.  Like the seemingly endless stretch of Interstate 70 that leads to Gail’s house:

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I drove this hundred mile stretch several hundred times on my way from my current small city to an even smaller city during my graduate school days:

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If I try just a little harder, I can find so many beautiful sights along the way to be thankful for.  Out of respect for Gail and Suzanne’s love of the wind,  I have come to appreciate–only a little more– the reason why Kansas has so many of these:

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An hour past my alma mater town, this gem on the plains is the hometown of both of my in-laws.  They were married in this church that stands as a tall beacon on the prairie skyline, and all four of my husband’s grandparents were laid to rest behind the church.  A dear friend’s parents are buried there as well.   In an unlikely coincidence, my mom’s father was born there at home, but didn’t live there long as a child.

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As I age, I am more thankful that I was born and raised a Kansas farm girl.  While my family trusted only the red tractors, combines and other machinery, the green ones are fixtures on the Kansas plains.  My husband’s brother-in-law recently retired from a long and storied career with the green tractor company, so I have to respect them too.  Only if you were raised on a farm would you understand the ongoing debate/argument over which tractor is better:  red or green?  Either one will adequately harvest the current corn crop, which, in the last 10 years, is becoming a bigger cash crop in Kansas.

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So, just when I think I can no longer tolerate the monotony of the flat western Kansas landscape, the road to Gail’s house takes a surprise twist:  hills!

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Then, about ten minutes later, we have arrived.  Over the plains and through the hills, to Gail’s house we go.24058991_1925613150786933_3385765566210426815_n[1]

Gail and Suzanne are busy cooking; Suzanne and her family arrived last night.

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Anyone in the kitchen is expected to lend a hand.

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This is Gail’s time to shine, it is the pinnacle of the year–in family terms–for her.  I think that’s why it’s my favorite too.  Three of our four brothers, their wives and most of their offspring were there as well.   If Gail is in charge, it’s gonna be good.

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And it was.

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Our new tradition is to take a picture in Camp Gail, just like we did last year.

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After duplicating that picture, we decided to try to duplicate this one, with a slight modification to reflect the fact that we are all fifteen years older than when this picture was taken:

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It didn’t turn out so well:

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Still, we tried.  And we will keep on trying to have all the fun we possibly can.   I am so thankful for that.

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I have long been thankful for Kansas sunsets, perhaps the most recognized natural wonder of The Wheat State.

Happy Thanksgiving every day from the three Kansas  wheat farm girls of the Sister Lode.

LOADS OF SISTERS

/ middlesisterkathleen / Leave a comment

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LOADS OF SISTERS

Sisterhood at its finest is what I aim to celebrate with each blog post.  Typically, this means I write about my sisters, but sometimes we need to share the spotlight with other sisters.

This week, I have done just that.

Gail, Suzanne and I met Friday for Mildred’s funeral.  Mildred, like a handful of other caring, thoughtful and loving matriarchs, opened her heart, home and holidays to us in our time of need.

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Gail’s mother-in-law lived fully, loved even more deeply, and left an incredible legacy of peace, positivity and optimism to her entire family.  On a beautiful November day with full sun, near record-high temperatures and—much to Gail and Suzanne’s chagrin—absolutely no wind, Mildred was memorialized in this small town where Gail, Suzanne and I were born.

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Mom and Dad lived there from 2000 until they died in 2008.  Both Gail and Suzanne had lived there as well.  Tana and Amy (Swheat Girls Part Two, dated July 9th) were born there, and spent their early childhood years there, too.

The service left only a few dry eyes in the church, and the burial concluded with this spectacular sight:

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We all returned to the church, and enjoyed the unparalleled cuisine of a small-town church potluck lunch, complete with homemade desserts.  Gathering outdoors in the beautiful weather became the obvious order for the rest of the day.

Gail’s three daughters hadn’t been together for some time.  They, too, celebrated their sisterhood today:

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Lisa (right), who also married into the family, celebrated with her sister today too.

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Mildred’s daughters, who weren’t old enough to lose their mother—no one ever is, if you recall from last week, are now the matriarchs of the family.  My heart breaks for them.

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When Mildred was just ten years old, her world was effectively rocked by the arrival of—surprise—twin sisters.  She was an only child until then. Mary, Martha and Mildred became perhaps as close as Gail, Suzanne and me.  They traveled, had fun, bent the rules, laughed, spread joy, and drew even closer as Mildred neared the end of her life.

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Besides Gail’s three daughters, Mildred’s other granddaughters are left to help their mothers carry on her legacy.

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Even the great-nieces will carry Mildred’s memory forward.

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Mildred’s family didn’t let the beautiful November weather pass them by.

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The window pictured in that small gap in the trees in the center of the above picture is the house my parents lived in, just across the street and across an open lot.  Mildred, Mom and Dad couldn’t have asked for better neighbors in each other.

****************

Suzanne and I were chauffeured to Osborne by my husband.  We savored the beautiful Kansas landscape along the way, with next year’s wheat crop just getting its start.

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We stopped in Lucas to partake of the sights, and to procure some of the locally famous bologna and cheese from Brant’s Meat Market.

In operation since 1922, Doug Brant is handing the reigns to his daughter carry this family legacy forward as one of the few remaining authentic meat counters in Kansas.  Our dad was one of his regulars, and Dad’s local conversational legacy is still alive and well at Brant’s.  He remembers Dad, and he remembers us.  We remember how good his homemade treats are.

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No trip to Lucas is complete without a stop at Bowl Plaza, voted second best restroom in the world on World Toilet Day in 2014.

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The contest was sponsored by the United Nations and Cintas to increase awareness of worldwide sanitation.  This free, public restroom has been recognized for its uniqueness and flair.

For me, it provides a welcome rest stop on my travels in this direction, but more importantly, it validates my favorite expression of art:  mosaic art with all degrees of randomness included.

Life is often random, so art like this makes perfect sense to me.

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Next time, I swear I will make time to stop at the other world-famous attraction there:  J.P. Dinsmoor’s Garden of Eden.

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**************************

The holidays officially begin this week.  I know from heart-wrenching experience that this can be the hardest time of year for the newly grieving.

If it is your first year without a loved one, please consider this perspective:  Although the pain  never fully goes away, this first year is a blueprint.  We have no idea what to expect on the first round of birthdays, holidays and anniversaries, but when we survive the first year of all those special days, we can say I made it.  I will make it again.  We now have a foundation of what to expect in future years, and while each year is different in its own right, each year you move forward makes you another year stronger.

I am celebrating Thanksgiving Day with my husband’s family, and then we will spend the weekend at Gail’s for her much-anticipated annual Turkey Party.  It is a large part of the reason why I love Thanksgiving so much.  Our signature picture at the beginning of each post was taken in Camp Gail last year on Thanksgiving weekend, and I plan to take another one this year.

My favorite holiday is almost upon us, and after nine years, I can say I no longer dread holidays.  I welcome them, and savor the memories from so many blessed years with my parents.  I still miss them, though.

If you are missing a loved one, I wish you this peace I now feel.

If your family struggles to find harmony on holidays, I wish you peace as well.   Consider, if possible, seeing your family through their eyes for just a moment, or just for the day.

Give thanks.  Be grateful.  Express gratitude for the little things, as well as the big things.  Because the little things, as you already know, are what the big things are made of.

**********************************

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In loving memory of Mildred.  I am thankful I had the privilege of getting to know her.  She left an incredible legacy of love for all of us to carry forward.  May her family feel peace at their Thanksgiving table, and every day.

*****************************

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Any woman who was a sister to another woman posed for this impromptu picture.

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Gail with her family.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

 

 

 

LOADS OF SISTERS

/ middlesisterkathleen / 2 Comments

15590168_1550014341680151_293483791419753097_n

LOADS OF SISTERS

Sisterhood at its finest is what I aim to celebrate with each blog post.  Typically, this means I write about my sisters, but sometimes we need to share the spotlight with other sisters.

This week, I have done just that.

Gail, Suzanne and I met Friday for Mildred’s funeral.  Mildred, like a handful of other caring, thoughtful and loving matriarchs, opened her heart, home and holidays to us in our time of need.

23722256_1916446531703595_125398390426261805_n[1]

Gail’s mother-in-law lived fully, loved even more deeply, and left an incredible legacy of peace, positivity and optimism to her entire family.  On a beautiful November day with full sun, near record-high temperatures and—much to Gail and Suzanne’s chagrin—absolutely no wind, Mildred was memorialized in this small town where Gail, Suzanne and I were born.

23755207_1916441385037443_2782616651379994983_n[1]

Mom and Dad lived there from 2000 until they died in 2008.  Both Gail and Suzanne had lived there as well.  Tana and Amy (Swheat Girls Part Two, dated July 9th) were born there, and spent their early childhood years there, too.

The service left only a few dry eyes in the church, and the burial concluded with this spectacular sight:

23621243_1917093544972227_192189057894714912_n[1]

We all returned to the church, and enjoyed the unparalleled cuisine of a small-town church potluck lunch, complete with homemade desserts.  Gathering outdoors in the beautiful weather became the obvious order for the rest of the day.

Gail’s three daughters hadn’t been together for some time.  They, too, celebrated their sisterhood today:

23561685_1916443925037189_4362466890465211190_n[1]

Lisa (right), who also married into the family, celebrated with her sister today too.

23622031_1916442971703951_6958717363852325525_n1.jpg

Mildred’s daughters, who weren’t old enough to lose their mother—no one ever is, if you recall from last week, are now the matriarchs of the family.  My heart breaks for them.

23622373_1916440255037556_6973531112355038773_n[1]

When Mildred was just ten years old, her world was effectively rocked by the arrival of—surprise—twin sisters.  She was an only child until then. Mary, Martha and Mildred became perhaps as close as Gail, Suzanne and me.  They traveled, had fun, bent the rules, laughed, spread joy, and drew even closer as Mildred neared the end of her life.

23561619_1916440658370849_5235244013268738878_n[1]

Besides Gail’s three daughters, Mildred’s other granddaughters are left to help their mothers carry on her legacy.

23561367_1916439838370931_3844604989635182932_n[1]

23622382_1916439505037631_8894345444781148538_n[1]

Even the great-nieces will carry Mildred’s memory forward.

23659531_1916439125037669_7357623215340037443_n[1]

Mildred’s family didn’t let the beautiful November weather pass them by.

23561512_1916438718371043_2352931313381835316_n[1]

23621223_1916438451704403_5531035888319148986_n[1]

The window pictured in that small gap in the trees in the center of the above picture is the house my parents lived in, just across the street and across an open lot.  Mildred, Mom and Dad couldn’t have asked for better neighbors in each other.

****************

Suzanne and I were chauffeured to Osborne by my husband.  We savored the beautiful Kansas landscape along the way, with next year’s wheat crop just getting its start.

23561538_1916446861703562_1103632209898758194_n[1]

We stopped in Lucas to partake of the sights, and to procure some of the locally famous bologna and cheese from Brant’s Meat Market.

In operation since 1922, Doug Brant is handing the reigns to his daughter carry this family legacy forward as one of the few remaining authentic meat counters in Kansas.  Our dad was one of his regulars, and Dad’s local conversational legacy is still alive and well at Brant’s.  He remembers Dad, and he remembers us.  We remember how good his homemade treats are.

23561818_1916437045037877_3404023941761579431_n[1]

No trip to Lucas is complete without a stop at Bowl Plaza, voted second best restroom in the world on World Toilet Day in 2014.

23621291_1917150591633189_6355218809654899101_n[1]

The contest was sponsored by the United Nations and Cintas to increase awareness of worldwide sanitation.  This free, public restroom has been recognized for its uniqueness and flair.

For me, it provides a welcome rest stop on my travels in this direction, but more importantly, it validates my favorite expression of art:  mosaic art with all degrees of randomness included.

Life is often random, so art like this makes perfect sense to me.

23621294_1917151051633143_1180606570708035514_n[1]

23561787_1917160198298895_7148414135914596852_n[1]

23622357_1916451458369769_8467612234954592389_n[1]

Next time, I swear I will make time to stop at the other world-famous attraction there:  J.P. Dinsmoor’s Garden of Eden.

23622524_1917150004966581_5632295958893789615_n[1]

**************************

The holidays officially begin this week.  I know from heart-wrenching experience that this can be the hardest time of year for the newly grieving.

If it is your first year without a loved one, please consider this perspective:  Although the pain  never fully goes away, this first year is a blueprint.  We have no idea what to expect on the first round of birthdays, holidays and anniversaries, but when we survive the first year of all those special days, we can say I made it.  I will make it again.  We now have a foundation of what to expect in future years, and while each year is different in its own right, each year you move forward makes you another year stronger.

I am celebrating Thanksgiving Day with my husband’s family, and then we will spend the weekend at Gail’s for her much-anticipated annual Turkey Party.  It is a large part of the reason why I love Thanksgiving so much.  Our signature picture at the beginning of each post was taken in Camp Gail last year on Thanksgiving weekend, and I plan to take another one this year.

My favorite holiday is almost upon us, and after nine years, I can say I no longer dread holidays.  I welcome them, and savor the memories from so many blessed years with my parents.  I still miss them, though.

If you are missing a loved one, I wish you this peace I now feel.

If your family struggles to find harmony on holidays, I wish you peace as well.   Consider, if possible, seeing your family through their eyes for just a moment, or just for the day.

Give thanks.  Be grateful.  Express gratitude for the little things, as well as the big things.  Because the little things, as you already know, are what the big things are made of.

**********************************

23722705_1917641581584090_1822492349297903758_n[1]

In loving memory of Mildred.  I am thankful I had the privilege of getting to know her.  She left an incredible legacy of love for all of us to carry forward.  May her family feel peace at their Thanksgiving table, and every day.

*****************************

23621699_1916442441704004_6454884577427879405_n[1]

Any woman who was a sister to another woman posed for this impromptu picture.

23658616_1916441998370715_1218438540190391148_n11.jpg

Gail with her family.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

 

 

 

EVERY DAY SHOULD BE THANKSGIVING DAY

/ middlesisterkathleen / Leave a comment

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EVERY DAY SHOULD BE THANKSGIVING DAY

Just like my parent’s generation remembers where they were and what they were doing when they heard the heartbreaking news about John F. Kennedy’s assassination, mine remembers the day our country came under attack:  9/11/2001.

I was holding a sick baby, glued to the TV all day, staring in disbelief.

The sixteenth anniversary of that dreadful day passed last week, the same day our country came under attack from Mother Nature with Hurricane Irma.  I was glued to The Weather Channel all weekend, staring in disbelief at my beloved St. Pete Beach, and all of Florida as it was battered by wind, rain and the fury of nature.

My heart broke for everyone in her path.  But this wasn’t helping them or me, not one little bit.

I feel heartbreak as a routine part of my work.  People whose lives have been devastated by a stroke, head injury, progressive neurological disease or a myriad of other illnesses present themselves for my attempts at remediation of their communication and/or swallow abilities.

Most days I can make a small difference, but most days I want to make more of a difference for them.  Most days I cannot heal, I simply offer a new way.

Sometimes, at the end of the day, I think I can’t take this anymore.

But then I remember something I read in a book by one of my mother’s favorite authors:  I can’t take on enough sadness to make someone else happy, nor can I take on someone else’s illness in order to make them well.  The best I can do is do the best with what I have, and practice gratitude for all I do have.

Even if this regular practice of gratitude does make me feel guilty for all I do have, while remembering those whose lives are being torn asunder by an illness or injury, a hurricane, or the ongoing loss felt from all those affected by the senseless attacks of 9/11—I have to keep feeling it.

And so I try.  Every day.  Some days it is easier than others.  Some days, I really have to dig deep.

It’s always there, though.  Always.

I recently read a book that challenged the reader to write down three things every day they are thankful for.  Three different things every day; no repeats.

The biggies—health, family, faith, freedom, food, shelter and clothing are the easy ones.   I used those up in the first few days.   The hard ones are the ones that take longer to get on paper.  Sometimes, I have to sit and think for quite some time before I can find something new.

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It is typically something easily overlooked, something like the beautiful orange-pink glow of the sunrise.

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A luscious, tasty watermelon from the bounty of our neighbor’s garden–as well as their generosity.

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From earlier this summer: the reflection of the water in our above-ground pool on the porch roof.   Getting a hand-written note in the mail.   Beautiful ground fog in the morning.  My boys enjoying an evening frog hunting.

These little things, when focused upon, become larger.  Larger, and more worthy of gratitude.

Sometimes, however, I have to turn it upside down to see the positive side in order to be thankful:  Electricity, as we sat for three hours without it.  Good dental care as I dreaded my six-month cleaning that afternoon.  Surviving a bad Monday.  No headlines in our daily paper about North Korea–no news is good news.  Realizing the reason a colleague irritated me was because I despise that too-frequent behavior in myself.

After a few months of making a point to recognize these small gifts worthy of gratitude, it started to grow on me, just like the author said it would.  I started to try harder to find the positive in what I typically considered negative.

I felt—do I dare say it—a little bit happier (just like the author said I would).  I realized I didn’t have to see something as negative if I didn’t want to.  Turning many thoughts upside down proved to be a good thing.

I felt empowered.

So, of course I wanted to share this good thing, this new view.  I asked Gail and Suzanne to try it for one day, just for this blog.  They each had to come up with three things that they don’t normally give thanks for.

Suzanne quickly came up with this:  she hasn’t taken it off since she got it in Florida.

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And, as a fellow lover of puzzles, she and I worked on this one last night.  Dad made two of these puzzle boards for Mom, and Suzanne and I are both thankful to have one.  Gail is not a puzzler like we are.

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She can complete a 1,000 piece puzzle in a day if she sets her mind to it, and she is grateful for this hobby that provides her with countless hours of enjoyment.

The third one was easy for her to come up with, but it is also something Gail is grateful for, and wanted to use as well.  It is something I despise.  It will wait until after Gail’s other two.

For over seven years, Gail was the owner and sole proprietor of a Daylight Donuts franchise in her small western Kansas town.  The bobblehead below reminds her to be grateful for all the friendships this created–her shop was the a.m. social hub in this small town.

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When she closed those doors, the woman in the picture below opened another door for her, and she will be forever grateful to her.  It was time to move on, and April gave her the opportunity to manage her chiropractic office.  Their children were both members of the homecoming court on Friday.

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The third one for both of them sets them apart from me, and makes me wonder just how they can both so enjoy and be grateful for something I loathe, something I gladly leave far behind me in one of my special places when I travel there.  In fact, one of my favorite things about Colorado is the relative lack of it:  wind.

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They both love wind.  The windier the better.  They both got their wish two days ago.  Gail has thought about changing her name to Gail Force Wind. 

I can say this because they are my sisters:  they are crazy.

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Because the title picture for my blog was taken during our Thanksgiving weekend celebration last year, it needed an encore presentation today.  It is taken in Camp Gail, a very special place in her home that will be covered in a future post.

Gail is our Thanksgiving hostess every year, and she does it up right.  It was my favorite holiday before she started the tradition, but her soiree enhances it.

I like the fact that there are no commercial expectations for Thanksgiving, just family, food and gratitude.

I am separating the idea of a holiday from a holy day, as I look at them differently.  Christmas is my favorite holy day, but I don’t like the commercialized, societal aspect of Christmas.  I prefer to keep it a holy day, and let the holiday buzz go on without me.   Thanksgiving, however, is a holy holiday for me.  It is all about gratitude—and good food with my family.

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Today, I am thankful for you, my blog readers.  My day so far hasn’t been among my best.  When I finish this post, I am going to turn a few things upside down to find two more.

I am challenging you to start this daily practice as well, and sit back and see if maybe your life doesn’t become a little bit happier too.

Thank you, and Happy Thanksgiving—every day. 

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Dedicated to the victims of the recent hurricanes, the ongoing grieving from 9/11 and my patients, all who fight their battles every day of their lives.  May you be filled with new hope for new and more frequent Thanksgivings.

Special thanks to my husband Mark, who suggested this post.