O Shenandoah! Country Reckoning/December

Food For Thought By Julie B. Gochenour

Today I am counting blessings -- an act of gratitude for the simple things in life ... flannel sheets and wool blankets, hot chocolate and toasted bagels, my favorite shoes and ancient sweater, the view outside my kitchen window, even the jaunty jumble of quilt spilling off the sofa and on the floor ... spots of color, cheer, and comfort, places where (whether I notice them or not) my life is not just touched and warmed, but blessed. For some reason it seems easy for me to feel blessed this time of year. Blessed to have a roof over my head, food on the table, and a life with no small degree of happiness. Blessed to know the frost is here, the leaves are gone, and I'm still warm -- outside and within. It's not just the proximity of Thanksgiving with its mounds of turkey, dressing and cranberry sauce either. As I wrap presents, bake cookies, and deal with all the demands of daily life before and during the holiday season, even the hustle and bustle seems right and proper -- as if an unseen generous hand is pouring a steady flow of blessings over my head until I'm hard pressed to keep my feet and balance in the rising stream. So be it. I consent to being blessed and, in return, rather than hoard the riches for myself, promise to do what I can to bless the world around me. Indeed, it seems to me that, at its best, worst and everywhere between, life is meant to be just this -- a blessing given and received. Ultimately, I recall, this is the season of gifts ... of blessing others and of being blessed. Both gifts, I suspect, are meant to be ours.