Grateful

I have worked on this blog for a number of years. I have a schedule I try to stick to when it comes to writing and publishing posts. Sometimes, I even thinly sketch out a year’s worth of posts in advance. Usually when I do that, a lot of holes appear in the finished list. That is okay as some of my favorite things I have shared came about from a spur of the moment event or a turn of a phrase that caught my ear. Enough of those come along during the year for me to stay six or seven posts ahead of my schedule most of the time. I also usually know though how trying to adhere to such a schedule will find certain important holidays and unique family days always popping up near a regularly schedule post. Since I try to post every other Thursday, Thanksgiving hits close every year.

This year though, I have struggled with writing a special column for this holiday. As I grow older, and slower, it seems everything around me gains speed. I am not averse to the sensation quickness brings but sometimes I find things sneak up on me before I realize it.

It is also difficult to write anything new or profound knowing some truly struggle to get through this season. Maybe loved ones who once made this season special are no longer physically present or if they are they are not able to participate as they once did. Some are living through hard circumstances or battle demons some of us don’t understand.

Even as I wish otherwise, I know I can’t make those things better by spilling out a series of letters onto a screen.

But, there is hope, that intangible, hard-to-describe thing that sometimes prods us forward. I am grateful for hope.

In the season ahead, I trust all of us, at least for a short time, can shut out the screaming headlines, the negativity some love to sow and the other things that darken hope. Please put down the phone, the tablet, unplug the TV and focus on truly important matters. Find wonder in a newborn child, value the words of an older person, pull a memory close enough to you that it keeps you warm, find a way you personally can help someone who is struggling. In doing so, I hope each of us can find things that make us grateful.

Grateful for each hand we hold
Gathered round this table.
From far and near we travel home,
Blessed that we are able.

Grateful for this sheltered place
With light in every window,
Saying "welcome, welcome, share this feast
Come in away from sorrow."

Father, mother, daughter, son,
Neighbor, friend and friendless;
All together everyone in the gift of loving-kindness.

Grateful for what's understood,
And all that is forgiven;
We try so hard to be good,
To lead a life worth living.

Father, mother, daughter, son,
Neighbor, friend, and friendless;
All together everyone, let grateful days be endless.

Grateful for each hand we hold
Gathered round this table.

Mary Chapin Carpenter “Thanksgiving Song”

https://youtu.be/JVY9dNxlPao

Psalm 106:1

Praise the LORD. Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good; his love endures forever.

Grey Matter

I rarely enjoy sitting in that chair. I may be a bit dramatic when I say this but I sometimes feel I give up a bit of my freedom, my time, and my soul while sitting there. Oh, yeah, and some of my hair, too. It is that time when someone gets up close to your face with a pair of scissors to snip away at this odd stuff that grows on the top and sides of your head.

I generally don’t enjoy the small talk that has to be engaged in during this time. That is no reflection on anyone other than me. It is solely my issue. Unless I know you very well, I probably won’t go into great detail about my life during this time. I really just want to get my haircut, pay someone for their effort and be on my way.

Since I have never been able to figure out exactly how to cut my own hair without a gigantic bowl, a huge mirror, an old pair of rusty scissors and a third hand on a very long arm, I have to trust others to do this for me. This means that every few months, I make the drive to the nearest style shop to get my ‘do did.

As I write this, I went through this process about a week ago. The young lady who cut my hair kept the talk to a minimum. That was likely a good thing as the shop was busy so it could have been hard to carry on yet one more conversation amidst the three or four other ongoing conversations while the greatest hits of the 80s, 90s and beyond played over the speakers.

I have a basic hairstyle. Buzz the sides, scissor cut the top, shave my hairy neck then let me look at the back of my head with a mirror. Follow these simple steps and we can be done within ten minutes.

While we were in the middle of this most recent haircut, my stylist had to turn away for a moment. I took the time to look down at the black smock she had covered over me. There, all over it, were small, wet snips of my hair. As I looked closer, my brown hair was mingled with plenty of grey hair.

It’s been that way for several years now. This happens to many of us as we grow older. Hair turns loose or turns colors. I am glad mine is hanging in there even if it has to change from my childhood brown to a more, er, dignified, grey. It shouldn't be grey I tell myself. It wasn't that long ago when Dad took me to the barber shop where I had my turn getting my "ears lowered" then sat quietly looking at the fishing and hunting magazines while Dad got a haircut and a shave.

Soon enough, the latest cut was over. The stylist removed the smock as I watched my hair fall all over the floor. I paid her for her work and left. As I turned toward the door, someone was sweeping up my hair and somehow I flashed back to the old days of the barber shop from my childhood and those two worlds collided. I got in my car, turned on the ignition and began to back out of the parking space. I glanced in the rear view mirror running my eyes over my new haircut then stopped with a brief look into my own eyes. I smiled as if to say, “Hair today, gone tomorrow.”