Upon awakening each day, I practice my own type of meditation. I consider what I’d like to accomplish, who I’d like to see. And I express how grateful I am for all I’ve been blessed with. I used to ‘meditate’ while still tucked in, but lately, it doesn’t happen until the dog has been let out and the coffee ready. And then, gesturing out the front window I say, “Thank you, God, for this day.”
And this day is dazzling white with a fat blue sky. Smoke lifts from the chimney of the house across the street and a snow plow labors by. My car is under so much snow, it will not see the road today, but I have no schools or appointments to get to, so I thank him for that also. And we talk.
One time, I asked him what was up with the nearly indestructible plastic packaging that comes with batteries and small tech items. He laughed so hard, coffee sprayed from his nose. God loves a good joke!
Once, I asked my mother what she prayed about. She said, “Mostly, I ask God to watch over my family and sometimes, we talk about recipes.
Usually, my conversations are about being thankful…for family, for friends…and lately, I am overwhelmed with the love and kindness they show back.
I also appreciate the work I do, the lives I touch and the knowing it makes a difference. Oh, and crunchy Cheetos.
Awhile back, I saw a handmade sign on the side of the road. It said, “What if you wake tomorrow and all you have left is what you were thankful for today?” I’d like to think I could handle it.
Looking out the window, I search the tree branches for the bird whose song will be stuck in my head for the rest of the day. I smile at the snowman I built yesterday – my purple wool hat still set at a jaunty angle on his head, one wine cork eye already missing.
The wind is a bit harsh, blowing the wooden chimes into a frenzy. The dog has settled in beside me and is lightly snoring. God reaches over and scratches behind her ears. Her tail wags and it is moments like these when I am overwhelmed with gratitude. God gives me that “Oh, shucks” look and stirs more sugar into his mug.
Like me, God is comfortable with silence, so we both simply look out the window and breathe. Eventually, God smiles and nods, asks if there is any more of the apple pie I made yesterday. I cut us a piece to share and even though it is still morning, I add whipped cream. A little something extra to go with our coffee.