Lately, it seems to me that the collective ‘we’ have lost our minds. And, in these times, my brain yields to my heart and soul… but not to lead.

Just to remind me who I am.

Who I want to be.

The types of humans I would like to see my children become.

And, If I’m lucky, their children too.

This can be a crazy world sometimes, but there is always beauty.

And always reminders, perspective-laden hammers set to knock us on our heads and off our feet.This nutty election season has filled the world, and the 24 hour news cycle, with a lot – sometimes too much – to digest. Now come the warnings of how to handle the conversations around our Thanksgiving tables. (Personally, I think we can all handle this without help from a cable news crew).

And I was thinking of all this tonight, as I mash sweet potatoes with a lot of butter and a bit of molasses, listening to sounds of ‘kids’ upstairs and dogs down.

I found myself grateful and thankful for this little job of fixing food for good people who I’m certain didn’t all vote the same, nor do they think the same about major political issues. I didn’t think there would be any problems, it actually hadn’t occurred to me… so I was being all cranky in my head about the news and how it is all fear mongering and how ridiculous was that and…

And then got a text from Number One Son Sam.

“10 years since my seizure”

Wait. What?

And I was transported.

Thanksgiving table set, the night before the big day.

John calling from the bathroom. Voice strained.

Sam conscious, but not.

Running red lights on the way to the emergency room.

Life threatening.

My barometers, the nurses… pity in their eyes when they met my own.

Get him to Boston.

The medevac helicopter passing us overhead.

Empty highway.

Numb.

Coma.

Fear…no…terror.

Tears.

Time ticking by… not wanting to call anyone.

And then… finally…

Relief.

Was I holding my breath that whole time, until he opened his eyes? I think I was.

Joy.

Nurses hanging Christmas lights in his room the day after he woke up.

Best. Decorating Day. Ever.

That was ten years ago. Wow.

Once again, I thanked the powers that be for perspective.

The table is set.

The cooking has started.

And I just got another text.

“The eagle has landed!!! Finnley is here!!!”

My niece has been in the hospital since very early this morning, and now we have a new life in our family.

Little Finn just showed up.

Huh.

I think I might be able to rustle up a bit of thanks and gratitude come morning.

As a matter of fact, I think I have a bit of a head start.

Thanks for readin’.

Really.

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