While I am thankful that I am able to cook well, and that I have a little talent when it comes writing, the truth of the matter is that I have to cook and I have to write. Cooking is an expression of myself, and even more, a way for me to express love to friends and family. Writing could be an exercise in narcissistic behavior if not for the reader and my hope that I am able to give something to them.
No, what I am really thankful for is that I have family and friends who allow me to cook for them. I may not always be able to tell the people around me how much they mean to me, but I try to put it in every plate that hits my table. It is in the advice that I (sometimes uninvited, and perhaps unwelcome) give about food and wine to anyone who will listen. I try and put it into the words I toss to the ether in the hope that it ends up on your screen.
It may sound like some trite little platitude, but I am truly thankful for my family, my friends, the people I meet every day, and to everyone who takes the time to validate this blog by reading, commenting, and sending me encouraging (or critical) e-mails. I am also thankful for my fellow bloggers. Wine bloggers are becoming a very diverse, but close community, and I am honored to be considered to be among their ranks.
One more thing that I am thankful for is that, no matter what has been prologue, we have a blank slate ahead of us. There is a line in the Bible that says:
“So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.”
I do not believe that I understood that until recently, and perhaps I still do not, but I think that maybe I am starting to a bit. We do not know the number of our days, so how can we number them? Perhaps the writer was telling us that we have to acknowledge that our days truly are numbered, not as an admonition regarding our numbers as a whole, but as an exultation of the numbers that remain.
Our lives are like a wonderful book, each with a certain number of pages. None of us know how many pages make up the book of our lives. We know how many have been written, and those may be what has shaped us, but they don’t define us unless we continually return to them for a re-reading. What truly does define us are those numbered days that we have. Those are blank pages for us to write on.
Do we write the same thing on those pages that were on the previous pages? Do we drift along and see what fate will write on them? Or, do we decide to write a surprise ending that amazes and delights everyone who might be following our story?
That choice is something we can all be thankful for. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
Note: I had to write this early today, as I am a Detroit Lions fan, and my outlook is likely to be less sunny later.