Thankful Days

Wow! What a few days it's been! It's difficult to believe that I've been back from last weekend's retreat for less than a week. In fact we left for the retreat less than a week ago. Is that possible? Yes, that's what happens to time when the days are packed and one takes the time to reflect. At least for me the passage of time can often be marked with the stuff of substance that occurs between days. There's been a lot going on, so it seems somehow as if more days should have passed.

Let's start with today and work back. As I promised yesterday, I "ran" the Atlanta Half today. No excuses -- I didn't run a good race (more than 1/2 hour slower than last year), but there is something so wonderful and joyous about running generally and this run in particular that it was a distinct pleasure to stride down Peachtree this morning. Physically, this wasn't the agony experienced in Maui, though my IT band refused to let me stride out for the last 5 miles. The pain in my knee would flare up, and I'd have to walk a couple of blocks. Then it would loosen and permit another couple of blocks of running. So nothing like Maui in that respect. And Maui felt awful, too. It was no fun. Today, even with the pain, the empty streets (under the best circumstances it takes hardy souls to line the streets for the Thanksgiving races), and the showers, running was fun again. That's a gift.

One of my rituals while running the Thanksgiving Half is to reflect on all the things for which I'm thankful. OK, so perhaps not particularly original -- that's not necessarily what I was going for anyway....

Some of the list recurs regularly: I'm ever-thankful for -- and do not in the least take for granted -- the love and support of my immediate family, the companionship of Zoe (my faithful BC), a roof over my head, challenging work (most days), and good health.

And sometimes that's where the list ends. It's a good list, the foundation of a satisfying life. But this year's run and reminiscence was different, and the smile on my face as I ran down Peachtree in the rain provided visual proof. I don't mean to be trite about this. Right now in my life there's anger, fear, sorrow, loss, frustration, disappointment. But this day isn't about cataloging the negative. (Plenty of others days for that, no?)

Today I ran and smiled. The past year has been good to me -- and especially the past few months.

I learned to slow down -- at least when it comes to food. Growing out of concerns about food quality control and the environmental impact of having all fruits and vegetables on demand regardless of the time of year, I began looking into alternatives. And I found Barbara Kingsolver's book, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. Through Kingsolver's website, http://www.kingsolver.com/home/index.asp, I located local resources that would permit me to support local farmers who practice sustainable agriculture. In the past six months, the vendors at the Morningside and Peachtree markets have become friends.

In addition to nourishment of the body, I've also experienced the grace that accompanies nourishment of the soul. Since I traveled less this year than I had in the previous seven years, I decided to join the church's enquirers' class -- designed to introduce "newcomers" to the denomination and the parish. The classes were interesting, sometimes challenging, and often quite thought-provoking. The class' participants were an interesting mix from surrounding neighborhoods and communities. I invariably looked forward to our once-per-week evenings. But we made little attempt to join in conversation outside of our "classroom," and, frankly, I didn't hold out much hope for the weekend retreat that served as capstone to our course. I won't share the details here, but I came away from the weekend with renewed respect for the courage and integrity of my newfound friends. So much hope, grief, fear, openness.... So much real expression. So much true community. I've been looking for this for a very long time. The days ahead are a little less scary for the relationships that we began forging in the north Georgia mountains.

Yes, much for which to be thankful.

Now it's time for dinner!