I am grateful for the familiar smell of new tires that reminds me of a pretty great childhood with many hours spent hiding inside stacks of tires at the gas station.

I am grateful for the ends to very stressful days and the feeling of crawling into bed completely exhausted.

I am grateful for cats who are happy to see me.

I am grateful for time spent with my brother, my sister, and my dad.

I am grateful for the best hair magician in the world and a really good feeling haircut.

I am grateful our son is moving back home tonight.

I am grateful I know how to clean a mean windshield.

I am grateful for Costco bulk.

I am grateful for the green of Kansas City WITHOUT humidity.

I am grateful for the sound of an adding machine and the satisfaction of adding up the credit card slips at the gas station desk and getting the same total two times in a row.

I am grateful for less humidity in small town USA, even though it isn’t as green.

I am grateful for a vacuumed, clean car.

And I am grateful that I’m okay but I’ll get over it. Right, Dad?

The case for making the bed vs. not doing so is one that I have heard forever. I like a made bed, one that is wrinkle-free, sheets pulled tight, pillows fluffed and puffy and inviting at the end of a long day.

“Why should I make it when I’m just going to get back into it tonight?”

That is the argument from those who disagree with my logic.

I supposed they could use the same argument for washing dishes, or washing their clothes, or showering.

I remember when I was just getting to know Sam, it was one of the questions I asked him. Make your bed every day, or just occasionally? He answered that he made his bed every day, because if something ever happened to him, he wouldn’t want his loved ones to have to come into his home and discover an unmade bed, and he likes to be neat and tidy.

I sure am grateful that Sam is that way.

Mom taught me how to make a bed with the corners tucked just so, like a wrapped package. Saturdays were cleaning days, and one of my jobs as a little girl, was to sit on the floor and iron pillowcases and Dad’s handkerchiefs. I know now she just needed me to be busy and work and stay out of her way, but it also instilled in me the lesson of contribution to the family, and of how great an ironed pillowcase looks on a clean bed.

I sure am grateful that my Mom was strict and taught me how to make a bed AND iron pillowcases, appreciating those square and rectangle creases.

Over the years, it has been important for me to observe how hotel staff makes the beds, and I must admit, I always click on the latest video tips and tricks to making an inviting bed. There are so many different ways, and every once in a while, I change it up.

I sure am grateful for the hotel staff who make the beds tightly and crisply every day so that guests have the simple joy and luxury of a made bed at the end of their day.

Now, Sam and I make the bed together each morning, and if by chance, one of us ends up doing it by ourselves, the other says, “I’m sorry,” and “Thank you for making the bed.” It’s just our thing.

When we do laundry, we fold sheets together. It could be an Olympic sport, I think. We’re pretty good at it.

I sure am grateful that it’s just our thing.

It is amusing how many people can’t fold a fitted sheet, though – it is easier to just take it from the dryer and straight to the bed than it is to fold it. I watched that video over and over and now I know how to fold a fitted so that it isn’t all wadded up in a drawer.

I sure am grateful for fitted sheets. There’s almost nothing worse than sleeping on a flat sheet that wrinkles and bunches underneath.

And then there are the weirdos who don’t use a flat sheet. WHAT. It’s a fitted sheet and a comforter like some alien lives among us. I have a family of grandchildren this way. Aliens, I say.

But I sure am grateful for alien grandchildren anyway.

The famous video of the Navy Seal Admiral who prompts the graduates at a commencement ceremony to begin each day by making their beds is classic and a big YES in my book.

I sure am grateful he made this a commencement address and someone videoed it and thought it was important enough for the world to hear. Spread simple lessons like butter.

We are now AirBnb hosts with two different properties. This week, two guests checked out of the house, and we walked over and did laundry, but instead of putting sheets back on beds, we just left them. We needed to walk and didn’t take time to make the beds. Besides, we didn’t have a booking for the rest of the week.

Our best neighbors in the world were interested in checking the place out last night, so I told them to go on over and have at it – “but please don’t mind the fact that it isn’t ‘show ready,'” since we hadn’t finished getting it ready for the next guest.

This morning, I walked over to make the beds and put the towels out in the bathroom, just in case we got a last minute booking for the weekend.

Today, I sure am most grateful for best neighbors in the world who MADE THE BEDS for us, just because.

Mother’s Day is always a hard day. I miss my mom, and I wish I could still be a mom.

I am grateful for tulips plucked by Sam to cheer me up.

I am grateful for three messages to hear and ponder – from my sister-in-law, our KC pastor, and one of my dearest friends.

I am grateful for a beautiful day to plant flowers and shrubs.

I am grateful for a phone call from my Texas daughter and all her children.

And I am most grateful that at the end of the day, when the blues were still hanging on, I received a text message that simply said, “Go look on the back porch.”

Foster son surprised me.

I am very, very grateful that I have a son, a son who was thoughtful to remember me. And even though he needs to learn the difference between “seen” and “saw,” he gave me a card that I will keep forever. I won’t correct his terrible grammar, at least not on the card, because what he wrote was perfect for who he is, and he made me smile cry.

Thank you, M. I love you, too.

It’s 9:00. The house is silent, except for the sounds of a basement sump on overdrive and two upper elementary cats chasing each other before I head upstairs to bed.

Normally, 5 miles would have been walked, dinner had and cleaned up, and a few minutes on the porch allowing my legs to rest before finishing my 30 flights of stairs.

But tonight, none of that happened. It’s chemo day, and chemo day has it’s own agenda.

So tonight, I needed my daddy. He isn’t here, and I could call him but it is 9:00. I have a rule. So the best way to need my daddy is to make Kraft Mac & cheese. We don’t keep boxed food on hand normally, but foster son changed that, so there was a box.

Dinner at 9:15 on a Wednesday night takes me back to childhood when it was past bedtime but Daddy came home from a long day of work and Mommy would let me get up and go sit at the kitchen table with Daddy and eat Mac & cheese, just the two of us.

I am grateful for that memory. I am grateful for a box in the pantry tonight. I am grateful for silence and funny cats. I am grateful chemo day is done and Sam is resting in bed.

And I am grateful for my Daddy…in Overland Park, and in my heart.

I am grateful for a walk in a light rain.

I am grateful for sounds of small town USA.

I am grateful that in the silence of my walk, the rocks cry out, and the droplets of rain rain, and the birds sing, and the stems of grass reach, and the hyacinths open.

I am grateful for my family – my brother’s help and always happy demeanor, my sister’s calls, my brother and sister-in-law’s zoom reunions now in effect, and my Dad’s love…and Alexa Echo calls from grandchildren in Texas and Washington.

I am grateful for a renewed motivation to get back to 15,000 steps.

I am grateful for Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir music that fills my soul.

And I am grateful for a bucket list item checked off – I am a soon-to-be graduate, even if it is just an Associate’s. Two weeks ago, I received an email asking for a picture to be included in the graduation ceremony that will be virtual and online this year. I thought it was a mistake and ignored the email. But I got another one that was a reminder. When I responded that they mistakenly had me on the list, I received an email this morning informing me it was not a mistake. I am graduating with an Associates in General Studies.

It took me long enough, and it was a surprise, but I did it. Now if I could just figure out what I want to be when I grow up, I could go on to get the next two years out of the way.

I am grateful for a quiet Easter morning at church with Sam, for beautiful music and a message that brought us to tears, for the emotions of a lit candle signifying He is ALIVE.

I am grateful for wonderful weather on Saturday before Easter, so we could enjoy the porch and the sunshine before Easter Sunday’s April winter hurricane and snow flurries.

I am grateful for plenty of food to make a fairly decent Easter lunch for three.

I am grateful for technology when I am usually NOT grateful for technology, because our Easter Sunday included an hour long video call with my family and then another one with all of Sam’s family. It was like we were all sitting around the table on Easter afternoon, my brothers, my sister, our niece and nephews, and Dad. It did my heart so good.

I am grateful for a box of masks that was supposed to be for our grandchildren, but they sure are coming in handy for us right now.

I am grateful for an Easter afternoon and evening of playing a game with Sam and foster son, something we NEVER do but should do more often, and I am grateful for the game my daughter sent to us, because Sam really likes to play it.

I am grateful for aluminum foil. So here is a PSA for cat owners, and they probably already know, but I didn’t, so here is my enlightenment:

A ball of aluminum foil is the best cat toy in the history of the world. Banana and Split are incredible soccer players with this thing, and they will play for HOURS if we fling the aluminum ball across the floor for them to chase. You’re welcome.

ho·ly
hōlē
adjective
1. exalted or worthy of complete devotion as one perfect in goodness and righteousness

It is Holy Week.

The neighbor dog barks, the rhythmic crunch of gravel keeps a beat with every step, and I am surrounded by beauty – a pink and orange sunrise to the east, and a full, orange moon as big as Dallas setting in the west.

The nose-crinkling smell of pigs wafts down the street after a truck goes by.

A beginning band trumpet player serenades to the practice-will-make-perfect tune of “Jingle Bells,” as we walk by.

Adult cats who are accustomed to social distancing sit under cars eyeing us with a stare reminder to back off, Jack.

Downtown is empty at 7:45 in the evening with the exception of “We are the Champions” by Queen playing on the crisp and static-y speakers attached to the light poles

Evidence of spring is finally beginning to take shape, and the first flowers we notice are purple phlox just waking up from a long winter.

Occasionally, a fly annoys enough to require a hand swat in front of our faces.

Banana is adventurous enough to experience grass for the very first time, and he loves it so much he runs full speed across the yard and out into the street, only to be scooped up quickly and reprimanded with a stern “no.”

The 68 degree breeze whistles through the window screen and offers such a peaceful background noise while I work, along with mourning doves cooing, robins gossiping, and blackbirds announcing to the rest of us they are back and ready to annoy.

Monotony is interrupted by a squeal and scream of a child playing in the safety and confines of a back yard.

³⁷ When he reached the place where the road started down the Mount of Olives, all of his followers began to shout and sing as they walked along, praising God for all the wonderful miracles they had seen.

³⁸ “Blessings on the King who comes in the name of the Lord!
    Peace in heaven, and glory in highest heaven!”^[a]

³⁹ But some of the Pharisees among the crowd said, “Teacher, rebuke your followers for saying things like that!”

⁴⁰ He replied, “If they kept quiet, the stones along the road would burst into cheers!” – Luke 19:37-40

A Dad and son enjoy time together playing a yard game, laughing together after a particularly bad throw and then waving “hi” to us as we walk by, socially distant and safe on the brick covered street, nonetheless.

Foster son beep-beeps at us with a big grin as he rides by on his electric scooter, a semblance of freedom after feeling trapped inside for so long.

The harmonization of the big wind chime keeps us company during lunch on the porch as Split is fascinated by a new toy with 8 legs, skittering as fast as it will go to escape her curious paw.

It is Holy Week.

My internal jukebox is playing an old favorite, from Friends Church days: The Lord is in His Holy temple, the Lord is in His holy temple,
Let all the earth keep silent.
Let all the earth keep silent, before Him.
Keep silent.
Keep silent, before Him.

Even in the middle of what we’ve never known, storefronts are festively decorated with bunnies and flowers and springtime colors. Our neighbor at the end of the block reminds everyone who goes by that the cross is still the most important yard display in these times of uncertainty. My mind swims with menu ideas for the three of us on Sunday.

The earth is much quieter right now. It makes Holy Week even more poignant. It is a good time to recognize all that is holy and worthy of our praise and gratitude.

Besides, God still has us in the palm of His hand. The gravel, the birds, the flowers waiting to burst, the welcome breeze, the sunrise and the moonset – they all say the same thing to me this week. The worst thing is never the last thing. Just hang on, keep silent, and enjoy His holy creation.

Thank you for the words this morning…because You live, I can face tomorrow, because You live, all fear is gone. Because I know, Who holds the future, life is worth the living, just because You live.

Thank you for simple toys – plastic grocery sacks that are fun to leap up and knock down as they float, aluminum foil taco wrapping in a ball to chase all over the house, any and every box, little flying bugs in the lamp light, and dead lavender bushes to jump into.

Thank you for one of the best messages I’ve heard in a long time…and for communion at the table, in front of a fire in the fireplace, while Sam and I had tears of reflection.

Thank you for anticipation of our small town USA version of a Passover meal tonight with social distanced next door neighbors…hotdog roast over a community fire pit, pasta salad, baked beans, and chips, separated by two patios, but close enough to enjoy the evening together.

I am grateful for the feeling of security inside my home.

I am grateful for the dust, because it is easy to see where I have cleaned WHEN I clean.

I am grateful for my neighbor who mowed her lawn this afternoon – the smell is pretty great.

I am grateful for plenty of soap.

I am grateful for windows to see outside on a beautiful spring day.

I am grateful for answered prayer and COVID-19 recoveries.

I am grateful for Michelle’s gift of a haircut for me before it was not possible any longer.

I am grateful that I can have a window open and have a nice spring breeze keep me company.

I am grateful that it will feel special again when we DO get to go out to eat.

I am grateful that my step daughter texted me to ask what scripture I leaned on in times of anxiety.

I look up to the mountains—
    does my help come from there?
² My help comes from the Lord,
    who made heaven and earth!

³ He will not let you stumble;
    the one who watches over you will not slumber.
⁴ Indeed, he who watches over Israel
    never slumbers or sleeps.

⁵ The Lord himself watches over you!
    The Lord stands beside you as your protective shade.
⁶ The sun will not harm you by day,
    nor the moon at night.

⁷ The Lord keeps you from all harm
    and watches over your life.
⁸ The Lord keeps watch over you as you come and go,
    both now and forever. – Psalm 121, New Living Translation

I am grateful that I can sleep, knowing that He is awake.

I am grateful for Banana and Split. They are great entertainment and do not have a remote.

I am grateful for pansies planted and making life feel a little more normal.

I am grateful for fresh air.

I am grateful that we can still receive mail.

I am grateful for the first fly, because it made me laugh to watch Banana try to catch it.

I am grateful for the clutter to pick up, the floors to clean, the dishes to put away, the weeds to pull, the trash to empty.

I am grateful that I can take deep breaths.

I am grateful that my job has been remote and working from home for quite a while, because my days really are no different with the exception of a little extra concern on my shoulders for Sam’s safety.

I am grateful that the sounds of birds are back.

Finally, I am grateful for a semblance of normalcy when things really aren’t normal at all.

We have no idea what sacrifice really means.

Last week, I finished work and in my mind as I was going downstairs, I thought I would make my daughter’s chicken tortilla soup for dinner. “I’ve got some chicken, I have some cheese, I have tortillas. I’m good.”

And then by the time I got to the kitchen and got serious about needing to make dinner, I realized I didn’t have chicken stock – you know, the kind in a box. “Well, there goes THAT. What am I supposed to do NOW?!”

I am certain my mom and my grandmas are in heaven doing facepalms.

We really have no idea what sacrifice and strength in hard times looks like. As we depended on Dana and Shelly to get groceries for us last weekend, it was enlightening to sit back and reflect. Shelly texted pictures of the aisles so I could choose this or that. Dana left notes that there were no potatoes, “Sorry, no apples!” etc.

And I caught myself thinking, “What am I going to MAKE?!”

Facepalm it, Mom. I know, I know.

Washing/warshing hands isn’t a big deal. But man oh man, 20 seconds is a LONG time. I have things to DO, like standing in the pantry staring at all the choices and not knowing what to FIX because there is no chicken stock.

(Whoever read last week’s post and sent Nestle’s Quik, DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT.)

Again, we have no idea what sacrifice really means. The fact that a grocery store is just minutes from our home with thousands of food items to eat is quite a miracle. Our parents and grandparents lived the sacrifices and the hardships. This COVID-19 thing for most of us is just an inconvenience in the grand scheme of things.

It is also a reason to re-evaluate what is taken for granted every day of our lives.

I am grateful for the delivery people who leave packages at our front door that stay outside now for 24 hours.

I am grateful for the time to spend, thinking about so many friends and family and putting my thinking thoughts into cards, and I am grateful for a box full of cards to send, and I am grateful for a roll of stamps.

I am grateful for enough Quik to open our own ice cream shop.

I am grateful for clean counters and doorknobs and appliance handles and cell phones and remotes. I am wishing we could set off a virus fogger in the house. That would be easier. And I kind of wish I could spray that glow-in-the-dark germ spray stuff all over so I could actually see where I missed, but I am also glad I can’t.

I am glad I don’t hoard toilet paper, but I am grateful for Costco.

I am grateful for nausea meds tonight for Sam. It was an easy breezy chemo day but not so much in the evening.

I am grateful for a bear to put in our window.

I am grateful that I was blessed to hear my daddy’s voice today on the phone on his 89th birthday, and I am grateful my sister was able to go see him and spend lunch time with him. I miss him a lot right now and have had so many memories swimming…

• His blue Fina/Standard/Amoco pants
• Ironing his handkerchiefs
• All the rides he would ride at Worlds of Fun and DisneyWorld with the girls
• Sitting on his lap and “driving” when I was little
• Hearing him sing the bass part during church, and then watching him fall asleep during the sermon
• “I’m okay but I’ll get over it”
• The way he loved me in the good and loved me in the bad and stood by me through it all, sometimes carrying me, sometimes just cheering me on, but always loving me

20 seconds is a long time, until you start thinking about the reasons your Dad is just the best dad in the world – I think that instead of praying the Lord’s Prayer or saying Psalm 23 for the next few handwashes, I will just think about Dad and his jokes, or Dad and Natia, or Dad and airplane rides, or Dad and Rook games, or Dad and his laugh, or Dad and his love of the Royals, or Dad and how hard he worked and how much he sacrificed so I would have great memories…