"I'm thankful for..."

            Everyone is seated around the table; the air is filled with a mix of traditional Thanksgiving dishes and the aroma of various family members’ perfume and cologne.  The room seems impossibly warm yet no one complains, for it’s difficult to decipher between the actual physical heat and the warm fuzzies that being with family provides.  My grandfather offers up a heartfelt prayer of gratitude for all that the Lord has blessed us with, the prayer is closed with the joining of everyone’s voices singing of the “Doxology”.  The passing of plates starts, a guessing game of “is this my fork, my neighbor’s fork, or the turkey plate’s fork?” begins – it seems that the quiet moments of the beginning of the meal are long gone.  Eventually someone starts my favorite part of the day, the actual giving of thanks and the chaos leaves as quickly as it appeared.  “I’m thankful for…”

            Each year I try to come up with a new answer, something that is distinctly of the year (for example this year I could say something about graduating).  However what I am most thankful for does not come and go each year.  It sounds utterly cliché to say that it’s my family and friends that truly fill me with the Thanksgiving spirit, but it’s true.  The list of reasons why is never ending and always expanding, yet I think that the aspects of these relationships that I appreciate most are often the ones that I don’t notice every day.  Near the top of that list of reasons why is the mere fact that they cause me to forget about the most obvious part of my life.  Even though the way I do things is almost entirely different than the vast majority of people I know rarely do I realize what causes me to have to make those adaptations.  Instances like the other day illustrate this point: my mom asked me a question about jump ropes and I told her that I had no clue about the answer.  “How could you not know?!?” she asked, I simply pointed to myself, an “Oh” was uttered as she answered her own question.  Experiences like my father bumping my chair up and down hundreds of steps at Watkins Glenn State Park without thinking twice about it make me realize how sacrifices are sometimes made so I can feel “normal”. 

            There are times when it’s completely different circumstances that cause me to feel saturated with gratitude.  Like the time almost exactly three years ago when I flew back to college with a fellow classmate and dear friend when all the parts besides for the frame of my wheelchair were left in Syracuse, while I was in Nashville.  Although that morning was excruciatingly long due to having to wait around for the airline to determine where exactly the pieces to my chair were, I was never alone.  The entire existence the Wheel Deal is due to the prodding of my best friend, and the resurrection of it is the product of some of his very late night pep talks.  I feel quite ordinary most of the time and forget that I’m different.  Even times when I am cognizant of my uniqueness the thought that others might actually want to read about those differences doesn’t usually cross my mind.  Sometimes you just need to be reminded not only of the fact that you are special, but also that you can share what makes you that way.  I am undoubtedly grateful that I have friends and family that do that.

            As I continue to grow into adulthood it becomes more apparent that thanksgiving isn’t something that happens on the last Thursday of November each year, it should be an everyday practice.  With age comes the realization that reality doesn’t always play nice.  It’s easy to feel like you’re being beat up by the punches that life sometimes throws at you.  However we’re not called to be victims of circumstance or “bad luck”.  With a mixture of hard work and having the right attitude your outlook changes and you’re able to bob and weave when those punches come your way.  The feeling of life taking too much from you can be combated by giving thanks for even the little things.  When I can’t get somewhere because of my chair it would be easy to get discouraged by those circumstances, but what good would that do?  Instead I think about all the things that I can do, and how there are more opportunities than ever for people who are disabled.  When I can feel the awkward stares, or when people talk to others I’m with but not to me because of my chair it’s sometimes difficult not get a little agitated by their ignorance.  I’m forever thankful that I can surround myself with people that I can joke with about being disabled cuts that mindset of being annoyed with society off.  It seems almost sad that there is only one day a year where the practice of giving thanks is given top billing.  You  don’t need to have a feast every day, and it would be impossible for New York City to shut down the streets used for the Macy’s parade on a more than yearly basis – yet that doesn’t mean that Thanksgiving only has to happen once a year.  Also a byproduct of thanksgiving is that feeling of warmth I described earlier.  I’m positive stems from counting of one’s blessings.  I know that because my hands are freezing right now and I’m sure the ground outside is dusted with frost, yet I feel immeasurably warm inside.