Thankful, that word. That is the hardest thing to be, isn’t
it? Would you rather be filthy rich and not grateful, or able to really be thankful
for what you have?
Making money is (relatively) easy in my America, we never need
miss a meal and our ‘hash-tag First World Problems’ are so plentiful, they’re
always trending on social media. If you know what that means, and have access
to the internet, this is what I’m talkin’ bout Willis.
Yet, with all of this life, liberty and the pursuit of
happiness, it’s easy to take it all for granted. I’m not above this, not at all,
just a human meat bag making some observations. I’m posting sarcastic thankful
posts, weird turkey pictures and boozey Thanksgiving memes, just like the best
of us.
My teenager does a great job of making sure I never forget
to be thankful for what I have. I have a healthy, happy family. That is an
enormous sentence from someone who went through what I’ve gone through. My life
hasn’t been, and will never be perfect, and I don’t even shoot for perfect.
Just happy. We’re there.
We are happy and thankful, and enjoying toddler wonderful silliness
and typical older teenage issues. Sometimes they feel overwhelming,
heart-breaking, “oh, what have I done wrong?” type stress, and then….something
gives me perspective. He brought home his friend that used to live with us. Just
for the night this time. He wanted to be with the closest thing to a family on
this day, since he can’t be with his family today.
His friend is 18 years old, he JUST graduated high school, and
he represents the many homeless in America. Through no fault of his own, he has
had to provide for himself completely since before he turned 18, thanks to whatever
battle his mother is always fighting. She kept him around, occasionally dodging
him, moving the family all over hell and back, and often not answering his
calls, until he turned 18. That is when she stopped getting support from the
government for him, so she had no further use for him apparently. Beyond heart
breaking. I haven't the appropriate words.
I don't know a lot about her battle, she hasn't chosen to share with me or receive help from me, or from a lot of people. Only she knows what she's going through. It's not my place to judge. It's very hard not to, lemme tell you.
I have been in dark places, faced some demons, so I know a very little bit about struggles you hide from everyone but yourself. I wish I could help her, but instead I helped her son.
He was still in high school when that happened. He stayed
with us, we fed him, got him what he needed, communicated with the school, and he graduated, and he is thriving. He
has 3 jobs and wants to go back to taking classes at our community college, if
and when he can find the time. He’s a sweet kid, a good person, takes nothing
for granted. He has asked us politely for everything we have ever given him,
refused many things offered, and continues to thank us when he sees us. We don’t
see him often because he’s always working. When we do see him, he is always smiling.
He is part of an amazing homeless program that helps him get
and stay on track. They give him a place to live, he gives them his paychecks and
they help him plan and budget. Anyone who doesn’t believe in social programs,
REALLY needs to sit down and have a talk with this kid. This man who was forced to
be a man when he should have still been a kid. He works hard, he’s always in a good mood, clean
and polite, he takes nothing for granted. He is amazing.
I’m grateful to know him and to have helped him. I’m glad he
was a part of our lives. My children love him, my Lola talks about him all the
time. Today he just wanted to be with us, because his mother is in rehab again
so he can’t be with her. I’m beyond grateful that he’s here, that he wanted to
be here.
I’m grateful that I was raised by a family that taught me to
always help people in these situations. Not to be afraid of people that need
help, not to turn my back, but instead to stretch out a hand and ask “How can I
help you?” even when I feel like I don’t have any KIND of my shit together.
I may not have been very grateful for that growing up, but I sure am now. In our world of plenty, what we lack is regular, everyday people who appreciate whatever they have, and are willing to help others. I know no matter how I struggle, I can still help people. Even *I* can make someone else’s
struggle a little bit better.
My family growing up had more than our fair share
of struggle, beyond things not going as planned. I don’t think Lifetime
Television could have but planned or not planned our drama, but we always had “extra”
people. My sisters would bring home people that had nowhere else to go, and
just wanted to sleep or shower inside for a change.
We often had a friend of someone’s staying with us, or living
with us, or taking a nap in someone’s bed (and yes, sometimes they were just ‘sleeping
it off’.) This gave us perspective. And I would lying, through my social-smoker yellowish teeth, if I didn't say that hopefully this kind of shit guaranteed
us a good spot on the Karma bus. Because seriously, you bet your spiral-sliced hams we could use it honey.
These extra people, these situations, were a gift from the
Universe whether we knew it or not. My family got through our hard times, we
are stronger because of it. We don’t let our petty bullshit drive us apart, we
speak our minds, we own who we are, we are not afraid of anything. We help
people. We’re weird, we make mistakes, but we give back to this world more than
we take. Probably. We teach our children to do the same.
Today is Thanksgiving, and that we are. We are celebrating
with my husband’s family today, I was relieved that this year I don’t have to host it, I don’t have to do all
the cooking. I don’t have to do a damn thing but dress myself and my girls, oh and
I offered to bring a ham. Knowing that my son’s friend is here, I got up and
started preparing to roast a chicken, make stuffing and a pumpkin pie so he can
have some good food to eat right here and now, and some to take with him. I’m happy to do it. I wish I could do
more.
Being the super prepared person that I am (not,) it appears
I used all the canned pumpkin in the kids’ oatmeal and yogurt this week so I
will have to make a “pumpkin” cheesecake, and by pumpkin I mean butternut squash. I read somewhere online a lot of
canned pumpkin is mostly squash, so hopefully no one will know. It beats going
to the store on Thanksgiving Day, which is canned bullshit. We’ll make do. People
have for centuries, we can too.
And we will all be grateful to do it.
Epilogue
I am beyond thankful for my strange lovable family, my wonderful husband, who almost understands why I have to suddenly cook a huge meal this morning, and kind of understands why I have to also write about it, instead of enjoying my family right now.
Of course I'm thankful for my children, my second chance at children, who don't understand me at all, and are standing here wanting attention, the baby crying "PIE!" because she sees the pie crust on the counter.
I am thankful for my many mistakes leading me to a place where I can be HAPPY and grateful. Today I'm most thankful for that perspective. If I hadn't gone through absolute misery, could I be absolutely happy? Who knows, who cares. Life is not perfect, and it would be effing BORING if it were.
Enjoy the good times, learn from the bad, enjoy every single stinking day because it's all we get!
This picture reminded me of my weird, tattooed, very real, very 'Murican, very loving family. We have "DFILY" tattooed variously on our family members and it stands for: Don't Forget I Love You
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| Well, we don't ALL have tats, and only my mom watches Nascar |
Happy Thanksgiving from ComfyTown, where gratitude pours from our horn o'plenty!
