Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Thinking about gatitude

I've been thinking a lot about Thanksgiving this week. We in the newspaper business usually work ahead. I've been reading religion briefs and calendar for this week, and there it is. I've ordered the turkey and will start baking and freezing things this weekend.

Some days I feel like I'm just going through the motions. This is my first holiday season without Mike. This is the first year he won't stand there eating stuffing before it hits the table, the first time he won't be there to imitate Danny's adolescent "I have nothing to be thankful for!" rant.

Still, when I go a little deeper, I have much to be thankful for. I got to be his mom for 33 years. I got to be the butt of his practical jokes. He loved me even when I wasn't lovable and I returned the favor.

I got to spend his last days with him, in community with his friends and the rest of the family.

In these hard times, I still have plenty to be thankful for: a roof over my head, a job that pays the bills, food, and most of all, my family and friends. It's hard to sink into a hole and feel sorry for myself when so many things about my life are still good.

Mike's death has been devastating to me -- to all of us who loved him -- but it has led to our advocacy work, and that could help a lot of people not lose somebody they love.

A clergyperson asked me today whether I'm angry with God about Mike's death.

The answer is no. I'm angry about the public policy that allwed him to die -- that allows 30,000 people to die every year. That's not God's fault. God gave humans free will and this is what we've done with it -- allowed greed to become public policy.

In 1984, the theme for Ronald Reagan's second presidential campaign was "Are you better off than you were four years ago?"

My question is: Are we as a nation better off when each of us only thinks about ourselves?

I think we might be coming out of that pre-kindergarten I-got-mine-get-your-own phase as a society.

Now, there's something to be thankful for.

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