I was walking this morning as the sun came up, with a book in my ear and a nice cool breeze on my face this late June day. It does not matter how great the book (and this one happens to be great great three chapters in), I inevitably have to pull my phone out of my pocket and hit the rewind button 30 seconds back because my mind is easily distracted.

A fellow walker/jogger/biker goes by and I must consciously greet them or comment on their dog.

Rats. What did he just say? Rewind.

A stray sprinkler head makes me step out into the street so my shoes don’t get wet.

The teacher did what at the beginning of class? Grrrr. Missed it. Rewind.

The morning newspaper is tossed too short and I immediately begin to think about how easy it is to define the age of the occupants of that home – paper delivery is almost a thing of the past, and only those who know what rotary dial phones and party lines are still subscribe to actual newspaper delivery service.

Wait. Who is Henry? How did I not catch who Henry was? Back, back, back, back, back.

Something the author mentions suddenly makes me irritated at the people who post on social media with messages to their 3-year-olds who are having a birthday like they actually log on to Facebook and will see the message or post a message to their long lost fill-in-the-blank pet about how much they are missed – when everyone knows that obviously they are NOT posting to the child or the pet. They just want everyone to see pictures and acknowledge the cuteness or the sadness. It is like duck lips Houlihan “look at me” pictures via way of children and pets.

Oh yeah, the book. Rewind, again.

Some days are more distracting than others. Sometimes I am distracted by the incredible cloud formations that catch the peachy pinks of sunrise. Other times, it is the neighborhood fox that is running across a yard. Unfortunately, sometimes it is a spider web that I walk into because I am engrossed in such a great book. If anyone out here sees me in spider web crisis mode, they will have to hit the rewind 30 seconds, too. Nothing like reality to get you to focus.

I am grateful tonight for anticipation of walking after I take this midterm so I can rewind and catch up on what I missed this morning in chapter 3 when I saw my husband sitting on the front porch as I turned the corner.

I am grateful for people who actually read newspapers in this house so I can wash my windows with materials that do not leave streaks.

I am not so grateful for spider webs in my face or June bugs freaking me out.

But if I time it right, I will finish this midterm just in time to see the sun set as another distraction, so I can begin chapter 3 all over again in the morning. For that, I am grateful.

12 years ago, my parents sat at the kitchen table on one of my darkest days, and Dad, in rare form, talked about a particular passage of scripture that was so fitting of my situation. I doubt he remembers, but it was a profound conversation and has stuck with me all these years.

And “don’t sin by letting anger control you.” Don’t let the sun go down while you are still angry, for anger gives a foothold to the devil. If you are a thief, quit stealing. Instead, use your hands for good hard work, and then give generously to others in need. Don’t use foul or abusive language. Let everything you say be good and helpful, so that your words will be an encouragement to those who hear them. And do not bring sorrow to God’s Holy Spirit by the way you live. Remember, he has identified you as his own, guaranteeing that you will be saved on the day of redemption. – Ephesians 4:26-30 (emphasis thanks to Dad)

If you know my Dad at all, you know that he is quiet and a man of few words, polar opposite of my Mom. I suppose that is one reason they worked well together. Mom did the talking, Dad did the listening. Even when Mom would hand Dad the phone, “Here, talk to your daughter,” Dad did more of the listening while I babbled on about the week’s events.

He doesn’t say a lot, and he never has, so when he has something to say, his family listens. It has always been that way…

Today, I am grateful for that conversation 12 years ago on one of my darkest days.

I am grateful for memory recall.

I am grateful for the reminder that words matter.

I am grateful my Dad listens – internally and externally.

I am grateful for the times when Dad has something to say.

I am grateful for another Father’s Day with him.

And I am grateful that putting a puzzle together is right down his alley: it doesn’t require too many words – just a little time, mediocre eyesight, and Delmar-like patience.

Holy toilet shame, Batman.

I needed to take a kitchen bag of trash to the dumpster last night and decided to fill it up with other trash in the not-too-taxing vicinity, because…laziness. I walked into the hall bath that is next to the kitchen and was immediately mortified.

The previous evening, some dear friends happened to stop by after their evening out, and Julie asked to use our bathroom. THAT is where my mind went when I saw the state of my lack of attention to regular and constant cleaning.

I live with two men who use this particular bathroom on a regular basis. I, however, rarely visit the room unless I am in need of a tissue or am in hyper cleaning mode on a random cleaning Saturday. I now know that I should NEVER assume my men have the mind or cleaning habits of June Cleaver, and as of last night, I will always assume the opposite.

Doesn’t everyone clean the mirror and erase any evidence of water drops each time they look in it? Doesn’t everyone wipe down the counters, sink, and the faucet until they shine after ALWAYS washing their hands before leaving the bathroom? Doesn’t everyone scan the bowl and both sides of the lid for unmentionable evidence of use and then ELIMINATE that evidence with the cleaning tools and products that happen to be RIGHT THERE?! Doesn’t everyone take a couple squares of toilet paper to wipe down the back of the toilet lid AFTER they close said lid?

Horrification, I tell you.

I may not be June Cleaver, but I am certainly grateful I was raised by Grace who taught me how to clean and how to be appropriately ashamed and remorseful.

I am grateful for friends who ignore the revulsion, don’t say a word, and love us anyway.

And, I am grateful for the two adorable Ward Cleavers in my house who do not realize June was an actress playing a part – I am CERTAIN Universal Pictures hired a cleaning crew.