Grateful

It’s hard to be thankful when you’re worried and afraid, but it’s also harder to be afraid when you can see the good things that surround you, so…a few thoughts on things I’m grateful for and how I’m showing gratitude.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me.

Tomorrow, we celebrate the kindness of the Wampanoag confederacy, who taught our ancestors how to survive in a strange land when they arrived fleeing religious and political persecution. I am thankful for that kindness. About a century ago, one of my ancestors fled political persecution in Ireland and was able to build a prosperous life in Boston. Not long after that, one of my ancestors came from Quebec looking for economic opportunities and was also able to build a prosperous life. I am grateful for the opportunities they found here. I am going to honor the kindness of the Wampanoag and the open door policies of the U.S. by advocating kindness for immigrants and for the descendants of this land’s original inhabitants, who are fighting hard battles for a decent life.

Here are a few places I’m looking at supporting:

Donate to or volunteer for the International Refugee Assistance Project »
Donate to or volunteer for the Mexican American Legal Defense and Education Fund »
Help the Sioux protect Standing Rock »
Donate to or volunteer for the Partnership with Native Americans »

I was hungry and you gave me something to eat.

Going through my feed this morning, I came across an article about making food affordable in the U.S., and this statement gave me hope:

“Despite our political differences, most Americans are united in the belief that our children should not go hungry.” – Mark Bittman

I’m grateful for that hope that we are all united by the desire to see children fed. It’s a very low bar for what civilization should look like, but common ground is something to be thankful for. This is common ground we can all work on, because kids are hungry, even in the U.S. Here’s a small thing John and I are doing:

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We put together this silly little design and slapped it on some mugs. (Dan, I theoretically put it on a bumper sticker, but CafePress is being buggy, so for now: mugs.) Every single penny that we get from sales on this (plus some of our own) will be going to the Good Shepherd Food Bank of Maine. If you want to join us in supporting their work of reducing hunger but want to do so in a more effective way and don’t care for another mug, donate directly to the GSFB. If you want your donation to have a more national impact, consider donating to Feeding America.

We must get up and take that in, the wind that lets us live.

When I got a puppy, who is high on my obvious things I’m grateful for list, I did not expect to find myself grateful for the difficulty of owning a dog. For every manic greeting, for every snuggle, for every game, there is twice as much boring waiting. Waiting for her to poop, waiting for her to get tired of playing fetch, waiting for her to be done playing at the dog park. I’m willing to do the waiting: sometimes because I know it’s important for her well-being, and sometimes because I just want her to be exhausted enough to let me watch Outlander without interruption. Whatever the reason in the moment, these periods of waiting are necessary and routinely inconvenient. They have taught me the value of inconvenient boredom. This year, in the course of waiting for Ivy to poop, I have seen more stars and more fireflies and more sunsets and more sunrises than in the last ten years combined. At least. Being stuck there between the scatalogical and the cosmological, I’ve been learning to better appreciate the little vacations from mundanity that pop up in unexpected places. Of all the things about my dog I’m grateful for, that one takes the cake.

This might get second place:

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Sooo many cozy nights of being bracketed by Kali and Ivy.

I don’t have a nice, linkable action point on this one, but I guess…I’m trying not to talk myself out of a chance to grow just because a thing seems hard or time-consuming or tedious or scary.

Each of us can work to change a small portion of events.

I’ve been feeling powerless watching the bad news stack up, but I got an email yesterday from the parks director in my town. I had done a little research this summer about creating a dog park here and approached him about the idea. He was very receptive, but had been quiet for a while, so I wasn’t sure where we stood. But today Ivy and I went with him to look at a lovely site where we will have a dog park next summer. He got the right of way permissions squared away, has approached some sponsors for fencing, and has put the plans in motion to complete the necessary infrastructure to access the spot. I’m grateful for the affirmation that sometimes, sometimes, making changes to our local communities can start very effectively with the simple act of saying, “Hey, wouldn’t it be nice if…”

There’s a lot for me to be grateful for today–this is just the tip of the iceberg. I hope the same is true for all of you. Happy Thanksgiving.