Everyday Gratitude

It’s amazing to think back sixty-two years to the day when two little cells, one almost microscopic and the other certainly so, came together, and I began. For the first few weeks no one was aware of my presence. My mom and dad, though intimately involved, were unaware, and I was not conscious of anything happening, at least in the usual meaning of the term. In a few weeks my mom will experience the first indications of my existence within her, and she will begin to wonder, very tentatively at first. She will share her thoughts with Dad, and make plans to confirm her situation. But, by the time Dr. Moriarty tells her she is pregnant, it will be no surprise, at least to her.

As the weeks unfold Mom and Dad will share the news with others. My mother’s mom and Mom’s sisters, Margaret and Eleanor, will be told. – At this point my maternal grandfather had been dead for about five years. – Dad’s mom and dad, and his brother, Blair, and Blair’s wife, Maureen, will also learn of my existence. And my sister, Mary (born five years ago), and brother, Rick (born three year ago), will become vaguely aware that something is happening. But Susan (born less than a year ago) will not have to endure any awareness of me for some time yet.

At this point, mid May 1948, I’m about two months old. I have a tiny heart beating within me, two little eyes, and a tiny brain with tiny brainwaves. I’ll have bigger and better brainwaves in years to come, but these are the first, and pretty good for a little fellow about the size of an almond. I have arms and legs, and by mid June I’ll have all my parts.

Slowly the little community of family and friends will come to know of an addition to their numbers, but it will be another six months before they know very much. They will be able to anticipate my birth date, give or take a week, and perhaps learn of the names being considered. But they won’t know if I’m a boy or girl, or even how many I/we might be. They will plan for a new baby, or babies, and wait.

By December 12, when I am born, I will already have nine months behind me. Some of the most important events of my life will have already happened, and my most astounding period of physical development will be history. I will already be eternally indebted to my mother for the provision and protection she has given me, and to my family and community for the provision and protection they’ve given her.

And every day I live, from that day forward, will be another amazing gift of grace. I will be indebted to parents, family, friends, and a wide community, for virtually everything I gain and become. My body will be a gift to me. My culture, language, and all the opportunities I will have in life will also be gifts to me. How many things will I invent? How many ideas will have their origin in me? How many words, or even thoughts will I contribute? No, I will be part of the great mystery of life, community, grace. And even my enemies will contribute more to my development than they will ever know.

So, what will I bring? Maybe teaching, humour, comfort, or affection. Perhaps music, art, insight, or an odd perspective. But certainly a thankful heart; yes, gratitude for sure. At the beginning of my sixty-third year, as I look forward to my sixty-second birthday, I will count the days I have been blessed to live. And I will give thanks for each and every one, including the approximately 266 vital days at the very beginning; days we so often forget to count.