(1) I was thankful to wake up in my very comfortable bed this morning, open my eyes, and see a bright, beautiful, day. The sky was blue, the trees were tall, and the sunlight was sparkling gold.
(2) I am thankful that we had six lovely years to live in Illinois. I really loved it there. Here, it is prettier, I admit. We have hills and trees, winding roads, sparkling lakes and babbling books wherever we go. Playful squirrels, mysterious deer, and majestic eagles surround us. I walked Duffy this morning in brisk air, under deliciously warm sunshine, smelling sweet scents of plants I don't know, mixed with the piquant aroma of crushed pine needles, all enhanced by the songs of unfamiliar birds. It's so lovely, like a storybook, a folktale and a Hallmark movie, all rolled into one. Yet, in Illinois, I felt like I was home, which was incredibly odd, because I was completely alone so much there. But it never failed to strike me, every time I took the exit off the freeway and drove up the road to my neighborhood, the words echoing in my heart, "This is my home. I live here." The smells in Illinois were familiar, like the smell of the air and the ground and the trees in Minnesota, and the gentle cooing of morning doves, wistful. The people in Illinois were awfully nice, too. Maybe they weren't nicer than people in other places, but I understood them better, and I felt like they understood me. I often thought, even though some tremendously sad things happened in our family while we lived there, how gracious God was to put me in a place with nature that sounded and smelled like home, and wide open sky, and kindhearted friends, and a fantastic church family, to temper the pain of tragedy. I will always remember the Illinois years with utmost fondness and thanksgiving.
(3) I am thankful for leftovers. Yes I sure am! We had company last weekend, and then Shawn went on a business trip Monday. I have eaten the remains of delicious leftovers all week, and I have not been obliged to cook once. A number of days, I haven't needed to start up my car. I just stay home. The sweet potatoes went first, and then the coleslaw. The ribs, potato salad, apple crisp and Italian vegetable soup have literally lasted all week. Once I knew a woman who told me, "I hate leftovers. When I am cleaning up dinner, and there are leftovers, I just throw them all away, because yuck. I don't want to eat that stuff again when it is old." I just stood there quietly while my brain screamed inside my head, "Are you serious? Are you serious???" Leftovers are your reward for cooking something delicious. They are a free pass. They are the absolute best--homemade food without any prep--and I am thankful for them (especially this week, but honestly, anytime I find leftovers in my refrigerator, I get happy).
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