Skipping Thanksgiving...Not Really

The challenge was upon us once again.  Whose family would we choose to spend Thanksgiving with this year?  Technically, it was supposed to be with Kim's family in Virginia.  Disappointed to not be able to see my family in South Carolina, we were nonetheless grateful to be able to visit with some of Kim's sisters and their families.  Suddenly, Kim had an epiphany, "What if we go see both sides this year?"  I asked, "How would we do that?" She replied, "Why not see my family Wednesday night and Thursday morning and then simply drive most of Thanksgiving day to see everyone else late that night or the following day?"  Once I got over the amazement that she would be willing to consider such a crazy thing, my complaining started.  "But we would literally miss Thanksgiving dinner entirely, spending eight to ten hours in the car with neither side." 

The more we discussed it, embracing an attitude of positivity and playfulness, the more it really made sense.  Not only would we get to see more family on both sides, we would be able to ensure that for a significant period of time, just Kim, I, and our three boys would be in the car together with no other distractions.  We would have time to explore together what we are truly grateful for in our lives, like all of the family and friends we would and unfortunately wouldn't be able to see this Thanksgiving.  How extraordinarily lucky we are for an infinite number of reasons.  After all, it's not really about the turkey feast anyway, is it?  Besides, we both know very well, there will be plenty of leftovers the following day.  At least I hope so!  HA!

Things Will Turn Out Alright

When I do the Sail the Seven C's workshop, I share about a brass keychain my father gave me when I was 20 years old and struggling in the hospital to recover physically and emotionally from a motorcycle accident that left me with severe burns on over 40 percent of my body.  He had the words "THINGS WILL TURN OUT ALRIGHT" inscribed on both sides.  While you can't read the words anymore, now worn away from carrying them in my pocket for twenty something years, I will never forget the wisdom in those words.

Can you imagine what my father must have been feeling?  What could he do for his son all burned up in the hospital to help make things right?  Well, I suppose the answer is nothing really.  Life simply sucked at that moment, pure and simple.  Or did it?  Sure, there was the intense pain, fear, and anger present.  Yet, how much of it was I choosing?  Pain is inevitable, but isn't suffering, at least to some degree, a choice.  Truth is I was choosing the space of victim.  My head, my thinking was creating far more drama and turmoil than the terrible event itself.  What was life asking of me right then?  How might I get out of my awful funk and choose to make the best of things, such as they were? 

Today I look back on this so-called tragedy and consider myself "burned to life".  I'm here today far more awake and consciously aware of each grain of sand as it falls through the neck of my hourglass of life.  I wasted so much of my sand those many months futilely complaining, criticizing, controlling, chasing, clinging, competing, and comparing.  How are you using your sand today?  In time, don't things always turn out alright?

The Missing Piece

Kim just loves jigsaw puzzles.  I've never been a fan.  With little success, she often tries to get me to appreciate and join her in puzzling.  One night, sometime back, she yelled with excitement from the dining room, "Preston, come see this awesome puzzle Michele and Adam sent me".  Complaining and criticizing began to take hold of me.  "Oh no, not a boring puzzle", I thought.  I yelled from the other room, "Not right now babe", like the countless times I've replied before.  "But I need help finding a missing piece," she replied.  Reluctantly and with a sigh, "Okay...I'm coming".  I have to admit, when I saw the puzzle, it was incredible.  Each piece was made of maple wood and laser cut into unique and intricate shapes.  Kim had already completed half, so I asked, "What missing piece are you looking for sweet pea?"  Her response, "You my love.  You are my missing piece."  Awe...maybe I do like puzzles after all.