I like to leave my bedroom window open an inch or two at night to let fresh air and the sounds of nature in-the rain, the cricket songs, wind rustling through the leaves, the morning chorus and even an occasional screech owl aria. Yet, that same inch or two of open window also invites in the morning sounds of distant car mufflers, leaf-blowers, lawn mowers, and an occasional chainsaw. I reflect that this indeed is what life is- that inch or two opening that allows everything to enter- filtering the things that bring us joy, from the things that dishearten-the things we are grateful for, from the things that are painful. It acknowledges that all of life isn’t a birdsong, a walk in the park, a day at the beach. Some of life is challenging, difficult and arduous. That same opening-that same inch or two- opens us to everything including gratitude.

Gratitude has become a popular force in both the sacred and secular worlds-encouraging us to begin our day with a reflection on the things we are grateful for. There are gratitude journals, gratitude rituals, gratitude practices that help us to reframe our day and our consciousness to all of the wonderful things in our lives. This is a beautiful practice as long as it is authentically what we feel-not forced, not synthetic, not insincere. It requires us reaching to our cores and discovering what honestly lies there. Who and what are the things that we are grateful for?

This Thanksgiving may be different than the one before, and that one so much different than the one before that -the people at our table, those missing, some gone-perhaps the same dishes and silverware but a world turned upside down. What will we be grateful for this year? Isn’t it the storm that makes us celebrate the sunshine, the time on our knees that lifts us up to the dance? It is a year of fear and isolation that sets the table for celebration-though still cautious, though still only a partial tribe.

Though this year everyone will be scattered about, our Thanksgiving traditions have included everyone in the family showing up donning their Christmas socks as our official start to the holiday season-we try to do so without reminding each other. We usually start the day with a kickball game at the park, the ‘cranberries’ against the ‘gravy’ or something like that-team names change every year. We’ll have the annual jigsaw puzzle of the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree set up on a card table by the fireplace and we’ll bask in the glow of another year together.

I must say this Thanksgiving I am grateful for our most beautiful corner of the world-for a home where I feel safe and warm, a small pantry for overflow tuna and spaghetti sauce, a husband, a daughter and a dog that I swear says “I love you” each morning. A hot shower, plenty of books to read, and a guitar that calls to me-a large family, sincere friendships, and a world overflowing with splendor and magnificence.

When morning comes, eyes still closed, I give thanks for all of the miracles around me. I know that I will keep my window open and welcome all the sounds of life with gratitude and thanksgiving. I wish each of you peace and joy as we celebrate this journey called life together.

Open Your Window