Tag Archives: family

One Donut Hole And Triple the Pleasure

knakal'sSome of life’s greatest lessons are experienced in the most ordinary settings.

Such is how it was this past Saturday when my girls and I walked into the local bakery.

As our eyes took in the almost empty shelves

we realized that we had come too late.

But together we decided to get some delicious horns and brownies.

While the lady behind the counter filled a box

we all noticed one lone donut hole.

“Can we have that one?” my oldest said pointing to the hole.

At first she was reluctant

but seeing our eager eyes

she  agreed.

Three pairs of eyes watched as she reached in way to the back and took that small donut hole.

“No charge,” she said handing it to my oldest daughter and proceeded to ring up the rest of our purchase.

Meanwhile we all shared that delicious donut hole.

Yes, three bites and smiles all around.

What one person might dismiss as of little value

another might see as being special.

We enjoy so many of life’s pleasures by sharing them.

Portion size doesn’t  matter.  Matter of fact our joy overflows in the sharing.

One small donut hole and I am still thinking about it.

Maybe there are more things in life

that are small

and seem to be of little value in this world that values money, position and beauty

but are treasures in disguise.

The elderly lady that lives alone.

And the  old man who slowly walks the street every day.

The young child

That simple job that no one seems to notice or value.

That blog

or article that one labored to write but now seems so simple

in a complex society with a different focus.

Little is big when God is in it.

Always.

Let’s not forget that, my friends.

Thanksgiving Memories

autumn glories 5I remember that time like it was yesterday. For weeks I, a college student at the University, would count off the days until Thanksgiving break. While studying in the vast college library I would imagine the sights and sounds of my hometown. On each page of those old textbooks I could see another picture of the place that I loved so much.  Most of all, I saw my family.

Yes, studying and completing those papers was hard. My heart was not in them but the incentive of going home kept me working through those sluggish feelings. Until the day finally came to go home.

That old white suitcase was so jammed with my belongings that I had to practically sit on it to get it to close. After doing that I threw on my grey winter coat, picked up the heavy luggage and walked clear across campus. Yes, the winds blew across that upstate New York campus and I oftentimes had to lower my  head into my scarf so that I could breathe. That walk was long but it didn’t even bother me. No, each step got me closer to the bus station and I was going home.

I can still feel the excitement as that old Trailways bus pulled up in front of me. Somehow, I’ll never know how, I managed to get that luggage place underneath in the storage section of the bus, and I crawled  up the steps and took my seat. There were people sitting on all sides around me but no one could see that ocean of happy heart beating joy that I felt that day. I glanced at my watch and calculated seven hours. In seven hours I would be home. My home.

It was hard to read and even harder to sleep as the bus sped down those New York highways. I could imagine my Mom busily fixing the pumpkin pie and mincemeat pie and how delicious it must smell. She’d promised to not do the chocolate chip cookies until I got home. But it wasn’t just the cooking and baking that I loved. No, it was each member of my family. I had memorized them all so well that for hours as the bus journeyed across the state I could be lost in thought remembering the sound of their voices and their mannerisms. Family life is like that, I guess. We know each other so well.

Finally we passed the last stop until my town. I sat up closer and stared out the windows watching the familiar landscape quickly passing and knowing that in a few minutes the bus would pull in front of the old newpaper shop on North Avenue and I would be home. Round the corner and down the street the bus rolled. My hands grew sweaty with excitement and I sat up straighter. Almost there……

And then I saw out of the bus window the most beautiful sight in the world.

My Mom.  Wearing her familiar dark blue coat and flat brown shoes to help her walk easier. Polio when she was younger had left her with a limp and made walking harder for her. But there she was. Waiting.

She had walked long blocks to get to the bus station after doing all of that cooking. A big smile wreathed  her face as I hurriedly stepped out of the bus and ran into her arms.

Home.  Finally home. My heart was home where it belonged. Thanksgiving had begun.

Shining Moments

My favorite time on Thanksgiving Day…

my absolute peak moment

is yet to come.

But I know that it will move my heart deeply again.

It always does.

Year after year.

When the time is right

and all the food is ready

everyone comes to the table.

Pull out the chairs

and reach for each others’ hands.

As we hold hands our hearts are drawn together

our heads bow

in a moment of silence.

A prayer is spoken

acknowledging our gratitude for all our many blessings

and our dependence on Him.

Holy offerings upward.

Humble acts of worship.

Holding each other close as we once more give thanks.

Yes, its’ my  favorite time on the whole day.

Little ones clasp tiny fingers together.

Wrinkled hands

weathered with age

join with younger smoothed skin ones.

Memories mingle with today

lifting us beyond ourselves

to touch the hearts of others.

May you all have

a glorious Thanksgiving Day.

and continue to remember those who struggle and hurt in so many ways.