Thanks

During my first year out of college I was reading 1 Thessalonians for a Bible study. "Give thanks in all circumstances," said Chapter 5. I marked the "all" and resolved to give it a try.

The next morning I was racing out the door to work. I had just enough time to catch my train if I moved quickly. I zipped through my mental checklist as I ran for it: coat, gloves, shoes, bag, lunch, walle-- rrccchhhhhh ffffffccccccccchhhh.

That was the sound of my cat vomiting all over the living room carpet. I cannot even tell you how intensely I hated cat vomit. If you'd given me a choice between being in the same room with a live grenade and being in the same room with cat vomit, I would have picked the live grenade. They can treat shrapnel wounds, after all.

If I had lived alone I might have just tossed a dishrag over the offending spot and cleaned it up that night, so I could sprint for the train. But I had three roommates, none of whom would welcome that particular dishrag in their particular living room. I waved a mental farewell to my train and prepared to clean up.

I sank to my knees on the carpet and remembered the instruction to give thanks in all circumstances. You can probably imagine the sarcasm that crept into my voice as I began: "Thanks a LOT, Lord." As I began listing things I could be grateful for, though, I was surprised at how quickly they came.

For my cat, who was almost 19 at that point -- my first memories were of that cat. For a carpet. For able hands. For a job I loved and a train to take me there. I remember thanking God for the tenacity of life, not knowing that my kitty would die later that year. At some point it stopped being an exercise of the will and became an overflowing of the heart. I was surprised to feel it happening, and then grateful for that as well. It's a moment I look back on fondly, as a little glimpse of God's occasionally comical timing ("Thanks in all circumstances, Jamie? Here we go!") and of the fruits of a choice to obey.

***

Last night when they called school off for today, we invited the boy who was visiting to spend the night. Three of the kids slept in the fort Joe had made in our living room. At 11:30 I was awakened by an unhappy visitor. He woke up in the fort and, disoriented, was sick there. I helped him get some fresh clothes and a glass of water. I tried to contain the mess in the fort without waking the boys who'd been so eager to sleep there. It took a couple of tries to get in touch with our guest's family, and then it took me a long while to get back to sleep afterward.

I woke up too early this morning, because kids in a fort always wake up too early and even whispering boys will wake a toddler who doesn't want to miss a single minute of fun. I was crabby. I was not looking forward to our third successive snow day, this one so bitterly cold that the kids won't want to be outside for more than a few minutes. I don't mind doing my own kids' post-stomach-bug laundry, but it turns out that mother love is the reason for that particular change. (I am very fond of this kid, but vomit is still pretty gross.) I cleaned recycled strawberry ice cream out of the living room carpet with a fair amount of interior kvetching.

And then I sat down to do the Office of Readings. My ribbon was in the wrong place because of yesterday's feast day, which meant that I read, of all things, 1 Thessalonians 5. Give thanks in all circumstances, Jamie. All circumstances.

For this boy and his family. For my own family. For our friendship. For a carpet. For able hands. For a job that lets me stay home on a bitter February day. For good health (at least for the moment!). For a washing machine.

For a faithful God, who has a sense of humor.