The only difference between an extraordinary life and an ordinary one is the extraordinary pleasures you find in ordinary things.

- Veronique Vienne

Sometimes, it’s hard to see past the mundane routine, and catch those glimpses of extraordinary. When so many things are competing for your attention, when so many things are weighing you down, even the special moments can lose their shine, and become ordinary and dull. In a conscious effort to not lose sight of those extraordinary moments, I’m listing a few that I nearly missed enjoying.

1) The sound of my kids giggling at the crack of dawn, when they should be sleeping.

2) The way my son’s first thought as we pull out of the daycare and head to home, is that his sister’s bus is almost home.

3) My husband doing drop-off, because he can see I needed that extra 30 minutes of sleep that it afforded me.

4) The wonder of my poor Jeep limping home with next to no coolant, and then recovering beautifully.

5) The way my 4 year old daughter pores over cook books, sighing at the wonderful food she could be making.

6) My brother-in-law scrubbing the kitchen and living room, even though he hadn’t been home in 2 days, and the mess certainly wasn’t his.

7) My daughter’s sense of responsibility and nurturing attitude towards her brother, her pets and even her tree.

8] That the job I found, when in my desperation I would have taken most anything, turns out to be a job I really enjoy, with coworkers who are (mostly) wonderful.

9) The way my parents have gone above and beyond, many times over, to ensure that not everything comes crashing down on top of us.

10) Connecting with an old friend, and finding that in many ways, we can pick up where we left off.

11) Feeling like I could sit here and make this list go on and on and on….

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I wrote this last night, and then never posted it for some reason. lol

I’m sitting here, waiting for the Great White Hunter to return home.

And while I already wrote about what I’m grateful for this year, and about my family (a good number of whom I will be trapped in a house with tomorrow, wish me luck with that!) in the very recent past, I’m still just completely overwhelmed with how much we do have to be thankful for.
Even in the midst of the really low times, we still have it pretty good.
And *that* is thanks, in part, to you. Because without friends and family, we have more or less nothing.

Happy Thanksgiving.

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I stole this idea from the lovely stylings of A Life Less Ordinary, and you can find the original template here.
__________________________

I am from store-brand items, mismatched furniture, JIF peanut butter(because choosy moms choose JIF), and duct tape fixes.

I am from one old farmhouse to another, I am from cramped apartments in less than stellar neighborhoods, because location isn’t everything. I am from Midwest accents, cold winters and sticky summers. I am from changing leaves, and flowers fighting through snow drifts in spring. I am from places off the beaten path, with populations expressed in four digits, or less.

I am from fields and pastures, from the smell of fresh cut hay and old silage. I am from the smell of diesel fuel, tractor fumes and 90-weight. I am from the sounds of frogs chirping in the spring, the wind howling, and the feel of ice underfoot.

I am from church on Sunday morning, from stubbornness and a refusal to give up, or give in. From Debbie, from Brian, Roger, Jean, Barbara, and John and on and on, back to the beginning…from Watts, from Cook and into Phillips.

I am from raised voices, passion expressed through anger, helping hands, and unconditional love. I am from where no matter how far you run, you can go back.

I am from bowling angels that cause thunderstorms, from demons and angels, heaven and hell, Santa Clause, Tooth Fairies and Easter Bunnies.

I am from churches that refuse denominational labeling, from Baptist schooling, from a mix of love and intolerance. From hope and help, and damnation.

I am from the Mayflower, fleeing persecution. I am from Scandinavians, spread across the Midwest. Farmers and fishers. Tractors and boats. Clam chowdah and falafel. From Wisconsin, Minnesota, and New England. From bratwurst and sauerkraut. And beer.

I am from writing letters petitioning PBS to have Sesame Street shown more often in a day, from riding alongside daddy in a grain truck. From tractor driving, hay baling, and driving a stick shift truck straight into the ditch, at very low speeds.

I am from photo albums, and sneaking into mom’s wooden hope chest. I am from journals, and diaries. From hopes and dreams and reality. I am from bedrooms without doors, and one heater vent upstairs. I am from little silver spoons with place names, and glass chickens on the windowsill.

I am from them, they are me. I am from history lost and history told. This is where I am from, and this is where I belong.

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For this I am grateful, for this I am grateful, for THIS I am grateful….

I find myself thinking this to myself a lot lately. I couldn’t really tell you why. It wasn’t a conscious decision to be more thankful for the small things in life. I find it just…happening.

Truck sits quietly snuggled up to his father, as his nebulizer pumps the medicine into his lungs, helping him to breathe. And for the quiet cooperation of the child who is anything but quiet, still or cooperative most days, for this I am thankful.

I share my discouragement with our situation. I whine about how sometimes it’s hard to see how we’ll get through this, and friends and family rush to support us. Some with offers of help, and some with gentle reminders that we have a certainty that this will pass, and we’ll be okay. And that is more than some have. For the out pouring of love and encouragement when I most needed it, for this, I am grateful.

It’s November, in Wisconsin, and it’s a balmy 65 degrees Fahrenheit outside. We horse around outside for hours, without the usual mind-numbing cold of November. I can enjoy the season without 5 layers of clothing. For this, I am grateful.

The money that some scheming loser stole from our bank account is returned, just in time to cover two small, but important, bills that needed to be paid. For the timing, for the amount that is within a few dollars of what was needed, I am grateful.

Miss Question bounces up and down excitedly, and asks, “Momma, can we make THAT?” as she watches her nightly cooking show. For her passion, her love of cooking and creating, however odd it may be at the tender age of four…for that I am grateful.

I curl up on the couch at the end of the day, next to TheMan. I think of how much has happened in the last 6 months. I think of how I wouldn’t have been able to write that first sentence most nights, less than a year ago. I think of how much has changed, and for this I am grateful.

Sometimes (okay, a lot of times) it is hard for me to see the good things in my life. So I welcome this change. I’m determined to enjoy my new perspective.
I’d love hear what you are grateful for in your life, however small it may seem.

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