It’s mid-October. Where did it go?!

So, I’m excited that November is just around the corner and I’ll get to start a project that has become one of my all time favorites. The Month of Thankfuls.

Two years ago, I’d just read some article – I don’t even remember what or where – but it was about doing a thankful list every day for the month of November. I decided to take mine a little farther. For the month, I started sending a text every day to 4 people about what I was thankful for that day. Sometimes, it was the same text to everyone, and sometimes, it was unique to that person. I only did 4 people: Fred, Gig, Boo and my sister.

And then the fun started…

They started texting THEIR thankfuls back. Gig even included The Beau’s thankfuls. It was so much fun to see what was on their minds that day. Fred probably wins for most romantic. For a man of few words, he uses his well. Kind of those “Awwww” moments.

When the month was over, I took the list of Gig and The Beau’s thankfuls and made them into a book. I used this great Bob Marley quote about “he’s not perfect” as a cover page and gave it to them as a Christmas gift. Gig & I have this “thing”…if you make the other cry over a gift at Christmas, then Christmas was successful. I made her cry with the Thankful book. It was great!

I just want you to know it isn’t hard or really time consuming.  Here are some examples:

Thankful for nice weather. It’s a gorgeous day for football!

“Ice cold beer! Your parents are going to think I’m horrible!” (obviously The Beau’s..and we didn’t, but we did laugh.)

Thankful your taste has definitely improved in guys. Call me if you’re awake.

You’re strong & funny & kind…you is 🙂 (we’d just watched The Help)

I’m thankful for your laugh. Sending you silly things to hear it is so cool. I love hearing you laugh.

That you trust me enough to tell me when I screwed up and that you have patience with me. I love you!

I’m thankful for music that I can dance to. Makes my ears happy. : )

That you are happy.

I’m thankful that I’m happy too.

I’m thankful that my parents love you so much. (To which I responded, “You tell The Beau-I’m BEYOND thankful for this.”)

Loved the day w/you just talking about anything, everything.

I’m thankful that I get to spend time with you. And that there isn’t a race of super intelligent gorillas attacking us. (I really don’t remember what that was about!)

Beat the school bus (I take ’em as I get ’em) (I was racing to get in front of the school bus  – not racing the actual school bus, but going a different route so I wouldn’t end up behind the bus making all the pick up stops…just in case that needed an explanation.)

See, they aren’t hard and looking back on all of them at the end of the month was just delightful!

I challenge you. Do the Month of Thankfuls. Even if you just save the line of texts to that person. But I’m saving all of mine. Maybe you’ll see one just to you right here on this blog..who knows?

Yesterday was a rough day…
But thank you Lord for yesterday …
I got to see the kind heart of my beautiful daughter.
I received a precious compliment about handling difficult things well.
My heart was humbled and humble is good even though it may be painful.
I held the hand of someone I love & they held mine back.
I had someone to share grief with & not grieve alone.
I’ve come to a place I’ve never been for a new adventure.
I believe that souls that never met here will meet There.

Postscript:

Elizabeth Grace, I dreamt of you on the lap of God and you were laughing and cradled in His arms.

Years ago, when Gig was just a baby, I aspired to be a published writer. I took a correspondence writing course which paired me with a published writer. Had I only been wise enough (and not quite so tired from being a new mom), I might have done a better job (read that as “made something out of it”). But I didn’t.

I did however write the following short story which received some of the highest acclaim ever from the real author, “reminiscent of Erma Bombeck”. No greater fame needed than that.

I hope you enjoy “Mail Order Chickens”. (H.R. – thinking of you.)

White Leghorns, Rhode Island Reds, SR250s or Ornamental Japanese Silkies are just a few of the breeds of chickens available through mail order. Our first stock came from Sears-Roebuck. They arrived in a carton a bit larger than a shoe-box with a cup stapled inside to the bottom which contained feed. It was marked, “Deliver Immediately, Live Animals”. The postman delivered the package directly to our door. The highly recommended hybrid SR250 layers had arrived and we were in the chicken business.

It’s an interesting situation to be the proud owner of twenty-five 98%-guaranteed-pullet chickens. Especially when you don’t know anything about chickens except that they come in a bag, cheaper in pieces, from the local grocer. Once you get over the embarrassment of asking, “What’s a pullet?”, you then have to figure out how you are suppose to tell if you really did get a pullet and not a cock without looking like a fool.

Forget it. Fools are made for the chicken industry.

You see, pullets are female chickens; cocks are male chickens, Pullets lay eggs; cocks grow up to be roosters. What nobody tells you is that only the best chicken breeders can really tell what gender a chicken is at an early age (and they usually guess). They just don’t have ‘obvious details’ to let you know. You could spend hours holding their little bodies upside down looking for the answer. You just have to let your 98%-guaranteed-pullets grow up before you are sure you didn’t get taken, and by then, and tons of chicken poop and chicken feed later, you really don’t care. At least you don’t care unless you got a bunch of really mean roosters instead of the pullets!

Chicks are adorable. They are cute and fuzzy. They make little tiny peeping noises. They don’t eat much. You can keep them inside the house in a warm box, usually with a light bulb close by to keep them warm. They are funny to watch because they pile on top of each other to sleep and keep warm. Chicks don’t seem to realize that when they step in water and get wet all over that they look like drowned rats or that the squishy stuff they stepped in is not a good thing.

But chicks grow pretty quickly. Suddenly, you have to have a bigger box and a larger light for them. You don’t want them living in your spare room anymore. They begin to stay up nights peeping and cheeping and making scratching noises. They get dirty and they smell.

My husband decided to build the third or fourth bigger box, a breeder, for the growing chicks. It was made of 1×4 lumber, had a little top that could be set aside for feeding, yet provided protection from the growing chicks’ pecks. He used rope to line the edge – like a wrestling ring with a roof. We thought we were doing well. Then we noticed that the dog would spend hours outside sitting below the box, listening to the scratching, watching intently. One day, as we watched, a large chick jumped up to the roped portion, lost his balance and fell over the edge. The dog caught it in one gulp and the chick was gone in a swallow!

We purchased a bigger and better, fully enclosed breeder. We bought water troughs and feeding troughs. We bought medicine to keep them well. We bought replacements for the lost ones.

It takes about a year for laying hens to mature to lay eggs. We built a chicken coop, complete with private cubby holes for sitting and laying. Even after they are of laying age, chickens don’t work in hot weather. Finally, the following fall, the chickens began to lay. It’s exciting to gather eggs; children love the challenge. It is a game, really. Chickens lay the eggs; you then spend the majority of your day hunting where the chickens laid the eggs [aka free-range chickens].

That’s where the roosters, the 2% non-pullet-guaranteed, come in. Roosters have a union agreement against egg gatherers: peck, chase, beat with your wings or just plain try to scare the daylights out of the gatherer. The object is to see how many eggs the gatherer breaks in his attempts to avoid destruction by the roosters.

Ultimately, the gatherer does get back to the base – I mean – house. That’s when he finds the latest arrival marked, “Deliver Immediately, Live Animals”.

Thanks, Tom Bethancourt, for reading my story so long ago and paying such a high, sweet compliment.

She came tonight as I sat alone…
The girl I used to be…

And she gazed at me with her earnest eye
And questioned reproachfully:

Have you forgotten the many plans
And hopes I had for you?

The great career, the splendid fame,
all the wonderful things to do?

Where is the mansion of stately height
With all its gardens rare?

The silken robes that I dreamed for you
And the jewels in your hair?

And as she spoke, I was very sad
For I wanted her pleased with me…

This slender girl from the shadowy past
The girl that I used to be.

So gently rising, I took her hand
And guided her up the stairs

Where peacefully sleeping, my babies lay
Innocent, sweet, and fair.

And I told her that these are my only gems,
And precious they are to me;

That silken robes is my motherhood
Of costly simplicity.

And my mansion of stately height is love,
And the only career I know

Is serving each day in these sheltered walls
For the dear ones who come and go

And as I spoke to my shadowy guest,
She smiled through her tears at me.

And I saw the woman that I am now
Pleased the girl I used to be.

~~ Author Unknown ~~