Still so Thankful

Last year I posted a piece on my blog inspired by a tradition of sorts at our church, Trinity. Each year, on the Sunday before Thanksgiving, we have our Thanksgiving service where members share what they are Thankful for. Last year, I was asked to share at all three services.

Sunday, we were given time during the service to fill out our orange cards that read, "I am Thankful for..." in script across the top, I thought about last year. And now. And all the places I've been in between.

A week after I shared my story with my church last year, I was laid off. God was like, "Here you go. Pushing you out of the nest little one." I had stood before as slew of people and said, with 100% passion and conviction, that I was ready. So, this was my chance. My God-given opportunity to do what I wanted to do, and what I said I was ready to do. What I believed I was put on the earth to do.

In the past year I lost my job, wrote a 50,000 word memoir and moved into Manhattan. I took writing classes and attended free lectures and book signings. My heart was ripped in half & I learned the pain experienced when you love someone so deeply but can't do anything to make anything better for them. Sleeplessness nights journaling, crying, praying, questioning everything I've ever believed.

I spent a month in Texas - with only a carry-on suitcase amount of clothes, no toiletries and two pairs of shoes. I spent six weeks alone in NYC while my husband took his motorcycle across the country. I spent spring break laying on the beach in Cozumel and a week jaunting in-and-out of mid-town office buildings interviewing for receptionist jobs that I am over-qualified for but desperately desired to have.

My middle sister got her pharmacy license and my baby sister got a miracle. One dear friend got pregnant- after much difficulty and many disappointing years of trying, one got off all her prescription medications, and another one got married. My husband turned thirty-years-old and I turned into a carnivore. I've seen true restoration in the life of someone I love dearly, so much so that she even changed her voicemail. Even her voicemail sounds more free, like she has forgiven & let go. Even without a job, for most of 2009, I was taken care of financially; often, in unexplainable, miraculous ways.

And I did get a job- September 28- I became an employee. And I did get published. A short story I submitted to Chicken Soup for the Soul: True Love will come out December 29, 2009. I am so so blessed.

But in all this, I am aware of the hurt and sin and tiredness around me. Last Sunday I found myself raising my hands in worship between someone who just found out her mother has ovarian cancer and there is nothing anyone can do, and someone who's mother decided to leave before she ever held her baby. I looked around and saw people who had buried their children, people who couldn't pay their mortgage, people who need surgery- but don't have health insurance, people who at some point each day consider throwing in the towel on the entire thing.

But I know, I know that even they are Thankful. I know they are because they have told me. We all have hurts- and questions that will never have answers, but our God is bigger than that. And, He's given us so much. He's given us each other.

Paperboy

If you rely on NY public transportation each and every morning like I do, you are familiar with the Metro and the AM New York. On our commute each morning, New York subway riders have the choice of grabbing a free copy of either paper. Or, even one of each- if one is so inclined. Hey, there aren't many things offered for free in the city, however I did get a sandwich once right outside Grand Central Station. Pepperidge Farm was publicizing their new deli flats- delish!

Granted, these publications are written on a fourth grade reading level and contain little actual news, but they are in full color and have a daily sudoku, which I do enjoy. And yes, sometimes I do get one of each paper- just for the sudoku. Each of these fine publications does give blurbs on actual timely news & as well as offer dining suggestions and list events going on in the city.

The most exciting thing about these papers, I find, are the actual guys who are handing these newspapers out. Not only are these publications free, but someone gets paid to had them to you. This is not the case at each subway stop, but at the larger stations- these guys take their job seriously. And I don't mean that in an annoying, critical way- they are so delightful.

There is the obvious, and most often heard, "AM New York" repeated over and over, or perhaps, "Morning Metro, get your Metro here." But my favorite are the two guys at the downtown 4-5-6 86th Street Station who holler out morning headlines. Today, "Let's go Yankees." "How about those Yankees?" "Bloomberg gets four more years."

It doesn't come across well here- in writing- as I try to relay what it is that I enjoy so much about their banter. They just rattle on and on, back and forth, handing out newspapers. It's in the dialect and continual lines that flow out of their mouths. It's entertaining to me, like an auctioneer. This morning I got the line, "Hey there baby. Headed to school this morning? Don't get sent to the principals office."

Marthon Sunday

I did not grow up an athlete. Or athletic. Or doing much anything that required running, sweating, ugly sneakers, or ponytails. I preferred the indoors to the outdoors. At a swim meet when I was quite young I was pleased when I got the sixth place ribbon. It was pink. I loved the backstroke and found it relaxing to make large circles with my arms, my shoulders rotating backward in there sockets. Pushing the water aside, my eight-year old body propelled down the lane and I counted the banners hanging from the ceiling. I was not in a hurry. For me this was mere pleasure, not a race.

I disliked bike riding, tree climbing and all things YMCA- but I did participate from time to time. In high school I discovered show choir and musical theater and never thought much about exercise. Really. And in college- yikes! I gained my freshman fifteen and my roommates too. (Her size 0's hung loosely around her bony hips.) It's only been in the past three years that I have gotten into an exercise routine (sort of).

I enjoy working out. Cardio was my first love- walking, then jogging, elliptical, and spin class. The first time I took a spin class was the closest I've come to thinking that I was going to surely die from over exhaustion. But I was addicted. Endorphins have changed my life! Then I discovered weightlifting, and after I stuck it out for some time- I noticed differences in body. So, I figured "they" must be right when comes to toning and resistance and the importance of incorporating BOTH fat burning cardio & muscle building weightlifting.

But I have never been a true runner. And I am fine with that. This summer I jogged alot around Central Park and up and down the East River. BUT, I don't consider myself a runner. It feels good though- the runners high. Like the time I did run almost seven miles. And I loved running The Loop in Central Park because everyone runs: old, young, fat, skinny, moms with strollers, guys with dogs, people in $300 shoes they ordered online and people in sweat pants with the legs cut off.

This Sunday was The 40th Annual ING New York City Marathon.

The marathon was like nothing else I've ever experienced. Over 40,000 runners filled the streets of NYC. If you are a New Yorker you can easily get trapped on the "wrong side" of First Avenue. Well, we live on First Avenue, so we were 100% effected by road closers, alternate routes, and bus delays. Sunday, after church, Chris and I headed over to the Queensboro bridge to see runners crossing over the East River and begin their run up First Avenue. This is about mile 17. It was so amazing to watch these people.

And the spectators lined the streets. Miles and miles of spectators. People handing out orange slices and pretzel rods. People yelling and cheering and clapping for complete strangers.

There were people running together. People running alone. We saw a guy in a wheelchair accompanied by two runners- all three wearing matching red t-shirts. There was a guy running with an Eiffel Tower the twice the size of himself. (This photo was taken in Paris, but I'm pretty sure it's the same guy.) There was a couple holding hands beginning the 19th mile together. And the cheering continued.

I just stood and watched how people encouraged and supported and rallied for other people they didn't even know. People who weren't their race, or religion, or nationality. It didn't matter.

Upstairs in our 32nd floor apartment I opened the windows. I loved the sound. The cow bells and air horns and whooping that echoed off buildings for miles along First Avenue. It was the sound of the human spirit. Of oneness. The sound that rang out "We all love what you are doing- this impossible, crazy, life altering thing- and we want you to succeed." Never before have I felt that people were genuinely good or caring. Where else do we see this kind of genuine support for one another? As the cheering continued- for hours and hours- I couldn't get enough of it and I couldn't get over it.

A woman participating in the marathon had been joined by two friends- who were spectators. They had crossed over the pedestrian barricade and had joined in the race with her. - I know this because the two ladies who were linked arm-in-arm with the bibbed runner, were in jeans and toting oversized handbags. They were like, "Listen, you can do this thing. Don't quit. We'll run along side you. YOU CAN DO THIS my friend." They were friends, just doing what friends do. I want, so deeply, to be a friend like that.

Hebrews 12:1 "and run with endurance the race that lies before us..."