Giddy's a Funny Word

I use to be one of those people.

The ones that hate celebrating Christmas

before Thanksgiving even arrives.

 

Thanksgiving is probably my favorite holiday.

I mean, I have 32 first cousins.

It's always been about family gathering,

celebrating, giving thanks,

and 

it also brings in the Christmas season.

As I'm writing and 

listening to a little James Taylor Christmas,

I can't help but be excited for the coming weeks.

They pass so quickly

and are over before you can

barely blink.

I heard Christmas music playing in a classroom at school today.

I practiced our Christmas musical at church choir tonight.

And now I'm ready for Christmas.

Even though Thanksgiving's not quite here yet.

Such a Reason for the season...

so much to be thankful for.

I'm a little giddy.

I've Got a Little Strut Left In Me

So I was thinking about Thanksgiving,

which made me think about turkeys,

and I realized ...

I'm not a spring chicken anymore!

It's so true, sadly.

I realize it, you see, 

because I happen to work

with spring chickens.

Smart, savvy, little chickens.

Young chicks who wear leggings 

and boots and

look all cute and teacher-ish

in their cute little glasses

and slipper shoes and

cute hair.

See, I think I can keep up with them, 

and I tell them that and

i try to make them think I'm cool

like them,

and I pretend like I understand what some new weird food is

that they all like, 

even though I've really never even heard of it...

and they listen to music that I'm not 

really even sure what category it fits under,

and I just blare my 70's music right back at them,

except they probably laugh at me,

and then they notice my eyeliner has smeared,

or that my hair is frazzled or 

that I have to run to the bathroom for emergencies a lot...

 and they know I'm not a spring chicken like them.

They can tell.

I remember when I was the young chick at school.

Now, I'm just a turkey.

Good ol' traditional, plump turkey!!!

But I can still strut my stuff.

And DON'T ruffle my tail-feathers,

'cause my gobble way trumps your cluck.

How's that for an old stuffed bird!!

Count Your Blessings

This is the time of year when I really try to stop and count my blessings.

I know I should do it often, throughout the year, but you know what I mean.

Thanksgiving, in and of itself, often brings us to that point.

As I have thought about the incredible blessings in my life,

I have found myself considering many things 

I've taken for granted. 

Things I forget to say "Thank you" for.

Things I know I can only thank God for providing.

I have a job.  A job I love.  It's exhausting, low-paying,

sometimes exasperating, but I love it. 

I have no doubt that I was made to be a teacher. 

You either have it or you don't. 

You love it or you don't.

You keep doing it, even when you think you can't,

or you don't.

I have a home.  A home I love.

A home that is sometimes messy and uncombed,

but it's my home.  My nest and safe haven.

It's warm and comforting and it asks

me to come sit and stay for awhile.

I have good friends.  Friends I love.

Friends that can be ridiculous and unpredictable,

 friends that are forgiving, heartfelt and always there for me.

Friends that make me wish I carried extra clothing 

for laughing fits.

They are the icing on my cake.

 

I have a family. A family I love.

A family that is sometimes outrageous and hilarious,

but also loyal and unbelievably kind,

and it's my family.  

My parents, in-laws and sisters, 
niece and nephews

keep me grounded, share joy in the little things in life,

and support me when I feel so low or scared I don't think I can even breathe.

I have two sons.  Sons I love more than life itself.

Sons that are sometimes busy and occupied, but also laugh-out-loud funny,

and truly two of the kindest, tender-hearted men I know.

I still like to call them my boys.

But I know they're really men.

And I need them as much or more than they need me.

I have a soul mate.  A husband and best friend that I love.

A man that is sometimes annoying and aggravating,

and a man that makes me laugh hysterically,

go weak in the knees over, and love more than I ever thought possible.

He is my rock.

He makes my life complete.

I have a faith.  A faith in the One who sends blessings my way.

A faith that keeps on going even in the hard times,

the valleys of life, the times when I want to hide away.

He gives me hope and sustains me in all things.

He promises my future.

He is and always will be.

These are the things I often take for granted.

The things that are the most important to me...

my truest blessings.

©2011tbowenblog

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