I am thankful for my mother’s toasted cheese sandwich made with Velveeta. Everyone else calls this a grilled cheese sandwich, but it’s always been a toasted cheese to me. Once, I went to Waffle House and ordered a toasted cheese. They brought me two slices of toast with a cold piece of cheese in between them. Naturally I took it back. Apparently, I was the only person in the world that called the sandwich a toasted cheese. The waitress pointed out to me that they have a grilled cheese sandwich on their menu, but I had ordered toast and cheese. Apparently, I mumbled as well as I soon understood that she had misunderstood me. Nevertheless, there’s not much that beats a good toasted cheese sandwich made with Velveeta. The kind where the melted cheese flows out the sides. Once the cheese flows out the sides of the toast, a pretzel or chip is used to scoop up the melted cheese. You have to scoop it up before it cools, though. Otherwise, it loses its pizazz somewhat. Add a few pickles on the side and you have a delicacy that can’t be found in any fancy restaurant. I could probably live off of these sandwiches. As a matter of fact, I think I did for a period of time.
I am thankful for bratty, spoiled kids. The kind that you see at Wal Mart screaming and acting like heathens. The kids whose parents can’t control them. Why would I be thankful for these nerve racking brats? Because it makes me realize that I did a pretty decent job with my kids. I never had the embarrassing moments in Wal Mart or anywhere else. My daughters were always respectful when we were over someone else’s house. I never had to use any drastic discipline or lame time out tactics. I wish I could take all of the credit, but I realize that I am not perfect by any means. I was fortunate enough to have help from people with good morals and overall principles. Whatever the reason or reasons, I was and still am blessed to have great children.
I am thankful for my dog, Lucy. No matter what kind of day I have had, Lucy meets me the same every day. Her nub of a tail wags so fast that her entire body shakes. Unable to stand in one spot, she circles me in between leaps and licks. She also does her best to tell me how happy she is to see me. Although you have probably heard of people tell of their pets talking to them, they are usually hallucinating or just telling you what they think they see and hear. Although it makes no sense to anyone else, it makes sense to them. Lucy, on the other hand, actually talks. I can’t understand what she’s saying, but she talks. In actuality, she gets so excited and full of nervous energy that her lips and jaws chatter. She makes a funny noise when this occurs that mimics talking as her jaws move. Her most enduring characteristic, however, is the nightly ritual of giving me a good night kiss. As soon as I get in bed, the tiny, 12lb Yorkie pins me down to shower my face with a tongue bath. Sometimes she doesn’t even wait for me to get under the cover. With Lucy, it’s never a quick, simple lick of the tongue. It’s an entire facial cleansing. She would lick all night if I’d let her. Reluctantly, she leaves and finds her spot for the night at the foot of the bed. As for myself, I turn over and go to sleep feeling loved with all of my problems washed away for the night.
I am thankful for the knowledge and abilities that God has given me. There are times when I get disgusted. I don’t think I’m where I should be in life or in my career. I think that I am the smartest person in the world and deserve more. Then I realize that there are a few people actually smarter than me. I also realize that I have had more opportunities than most people. I have probably overlooked more opportunities than I have I have recognized. I’ve actually accomplished almost everything that I’ve aspired to. I wanted to have a little girl…..I had three! I wanted to get my college degree…..I got two. I wanted to write a book…..I wrote two. When I look at things from that perspective, I realize I am successful and can accomplish anything I want. I am thankful that God has given me the ability to keep learning new things and to keep aspiring higher.
I am thankful that God has a purpose for me. I’ve always reminded myself that I was put here for a reason. I tell myself that often. I’ve always believed that I would change the world somehow. Unfortunately, I haven’t figured out the “how’ part yet and struggle to understand my exact purpose. Nevertheless, I truly believe that I have a purpose and will somehow change the world in a positive way. I am thankful that God has not grown tired of me failing him. My life quest has probably been in front of me my entire life, but I have always moved in the opposite direction. If I were God, I would have lost patience a long time ago. Thankfully, God’s plans never fail.
I am thankful for my wife, Crystal. On my numerous endeavors to find my purpose, she has supported me at every step. These endeavors have resulted in many different incarnations. I have changed my thinking and habits several times in what probably appears as out of the blue to her. Most of the time, these changes probably don’t make any sense to her. However, she always follows me blindly despite the lack of logic my path seems to go. I would have quit following in fear of the quick sand ahead, but she put on her wading boots and follows me on the safari of the unknown.
I am thankful for my English teacher at Bethel University, Cindy Fuchs. What started out as just another class turned into self-discovery for me. When I first enrolled in Bethel’s Success program, I looked at each class as nothing more than something I had to do to earn the credit needed to complete my degree. Through creative writing assignments, I re-discovered my passion for writing, storytelling, and literature. Impressed with my essays and writing, she commented that I should major in English. After the success in her classes, the remaining courses became more than just credit fillers to me. I became entrenched in my studies in History, Art, and Religion. Every class was a new learning experience. I was actually sad when the journey to my Bachelor degree was over. I loved learning. Mrs. Fuchs’s comments had ignited my love for learning in general, and fueled my lost love for creative writing. Without her, I wouldn’t be writing this blog now. I wouldn’t be listening to obscure podcasts. I wouldn’t be setting a goal of performing on stage at Spillit, a storytelling company in Memphis. Without her inspiration, I probably wouldn’t be exploring new ideas. I would probably be self-growth stagnant.
I am thankful for my four grandchildren. I say grandchildren as the Fonz says the word “wrong” when admitting he was wrong about something. In other words, I stretch it out because it is difficult to say at times. It’s hard to say because I sometimes feel that I am not ready to be a grandparent. It seems like only a few years ago when I was taking my daughters to school, attending school plays, and selling candy for them for school fundraisers. I was more than just a dad; I was Superman in their eyes. I enjoyed being Superman. It was all that I planned to do. I never planned for them growing up and having lives of their own. To me, they were always my young children. “Time marches on,” said Tracy Lawrence. Suddenly, all of my children were gone. Superman was now just plain Clark Kent. What was Clark to do now? No more death defying rescues. No more soaring through the sky. Those days were gone. Superman was just an ordinary person now trying to fit in in the real world. Then I thought of how beautiful those grandchildren were. I thought of how I could make memories with them that they will remember forever like I have of my short time with my grandfather. I can still be Superman to them. I also realized that I was still alive. I realized that there were plenty of opportunities and adventures that awaited me. New avenues that I haven’t been down before, new technologies to learn, new places to go. After all, there were how many Superman movies? After contemplating my outlook, I began preparing for Superman II.
I am thankful for the holiday season. One of my fondest memories as a child was singing “To Grandmother’s House” in my 2nd grade music class. All I can remember of the lyrics are “over the river and through the woods, to Grandmother’s house we go.” I’m not sure why I remember that moment. We had never had a music class before that day. The class was a small room that looked like it had been used for storage for some time. Against the wall was an old piano covered in dust. The librarian handed out the lyrics to the song along with a storybook to color that followed the song. I’m sure that I probably knew all of the lyrics by the end of the song, but forgot them shortly after. I was too excited to have the next four days out of school. I wasn’t really sure what all the fuss about Thanksgiving was, but I knew that Christmas would soon follow. That meant presents! After eating Thanksgiving dinner, we dug the artificial tree from the attic and began transforming it into a Christmas tree worthy of Santa. The next 4 weeks of school flew by. If Santa was a subject, I would have made an “A” because Christmas and how many days were left were the only subjects I studied. When Christmas morning finally arrived, Santa had been generous. At the time, it was the greatest day of my life. As I grew older, I have tried to replicate that day every year on Christmas morning. Even though I am older, I still have the spirit of Christmas. Materialism aside, I want to make it bigger and better every year. As an adult, I still remember the anticipation of the holidays when we sang “To Grandmother’s House” in what turned out to be our first and only music class. I want to still be that little kid that still believes in Santa. In many ways, I still am. It’s a blessing and a curse.
I started this blog by giving thanks for another day. There was time, however, when I didn’t think I had anything to be thankful for. A coworker had wished me a good morning and exclaimed that it was going to be a great day many years ago. “What’s so great about it?” I asked. “You woke up this morning,” he replied. I smirked and rolled my eyes. Years later, I would appreciate the meaning of his words. We are all blessed to have another day. Can you imagine not waking up? I can’t. I reallize that I am far from it, but I want to excel in a Christian life. I want to please God. I want to be a better follower of Christ. I can’t lie, however, and tell you that I’m going to be happy to die. There are things I haven’t done, things I need to do, things I need to say. I don’t want to go to bed and never have those chances again. Life is short. The end could happen at any moment. I might never have those chances. That’s why I’m thankful for one more day. One more day to summon up the courage to take those chances. Whenever I think about my problems, I think about the alternative. Sorry, but I’m not ready for a casket. I want to live. In the next year, I will be jumping out of an airplane, telling a story onstage, and possibly taking even more college classes. I am thankful that I have had the experiences of life to learn the meaning of the comment from my former coworker. I am thankful for my life and everything in it. I am thankful for one more day to live it.
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