Thanksgiving Leftovers

This is an ugly truth, but I’m going to say it anyway: Sometimes, my thankful heart disappears as quickly as the pumpkin pie.

Admittedly, it’s been a rough weekend. Corey left Saturday morning for a four-day trip to Haiti. He’s going with one of his clients (Food for the Poor) to see first-hand what they do in a country that is one of the most needy in the world. I’m thrilled he has this opportunity. He needs the tangible reminder that his work isn’t just pushing paperwork and filing reports; he’s helping nonprofits make a difference.

But his trip means I’m home alone with 3.5 kids, a dog and sinus congestion that has been around so long, I’m thinking of giving it a name. (“Hello Mr. Snuh-Fee. Which side of my head will you be clogging with cement today?”)

Thursday, I was awash in gratitude. I cooked a feast for my family to celebrate God's blessings. I was acutely aware of all I've been given, that life isn't always easy, but it is good, a gift beyond measure.

This weekend, gratitude has not been my top emotion.

Instead, I’ve been whiny. Pouty. Frustrated. Stretched. Impatient. Unimaginative.

On Saturday, I spent hours – literally, hours – in front of the computer, mindlessly surfing the Internet as the kids fought and complained around me. We were all prickles and thorns.

Yuck.

So today, I’m thankful for a new day. I’m thankful for the sun peeking out from behind the clouds. I’m thankful for a God who met me in church yesterday morning and gave me fresh perspective (and energy and patience) to face three more days of single-parenthood.

And I do believe I have two pieces of pumpkin pie left. How appropriate.

Maybe I can make those Thanksgiving leftovers last a little longer.