dark though it is

I've been very thankful this past week.  It wasn't our greatest week, to date, which is why I am so grateful for God's provision.  We had those big ol' storms on Tuesday night, which knocked our power out at 9:30 pm.  Mike had to leave the house to go out of town in the morning, at something like 4 am.  Yuck.  I won't dwell on the next few days but only say that the girls didn't sleep all that well, both during naps and over night.  And the power was out for 40 hours, so there was no getting in the fridge.  Things were a little dicey for the three days Mike was gone, and here's why I'm so very thankful: although I was absurdly exhausted, God gave me strength and patience that I most definitely did not have on my own.  I actually felt at peace. 

Once the power went back on, and as I thought about it, not having electricity isn't actually that big of a deal.  It wasn't super hot, and we don't have TV anyway.  Plus, I have a headlamp to read by.  But I'll tell ya, it FELT like a big deal.  Maybe it was just the knowledge that I was on my own and that this was one more thing, but I felt an incredible flood of relief when those lights flickered back on. 

I'm also so thankful for the beyond-amazing friends that God has given me.  On Thursday night, Becky and Seth (Gracie's mommy and daddy) offered to watch the girls for a few hours to give me a few hours alone during which I could restore my sanity.  This, to me, is beyond generous and still almost brings me to tears.  Just a few hours to regroup allowed me to love my girls more.  For this, I will always be grateful. 

So all this reminds me of a poem I first saw in one of Anne Lamott's books.  It's by W.S. Merwin, and it's called "Thanks".

Listen 
with the night falling we are saying thank you 
we are stopping on the bridges to bow from the railings 
we are running out of the glass rooms 
with our mouths full of food to look at the sky 
and say thank you 
we are standing by the water thanking it 
smiling by the windows looking out 
in our directions 

back from a series of hospitals back from a mugging 
after funerals we are saying thank you 
after the news of the dead 
whether or not we knew them we are saying thank you

over telephones we are saying thank you 
in doorways and in the backs of cars and in elevators 
remembering wars and the police at the door 
and the beatings on stairs we are saying thank you 
in the banks we are saying thank you 
in the faces of the officials and the rich
and of all who will never change
we go on saying thank you thank you

with the animals dying around us 
our lost feelings we are saying thank you 
with the forests falling faster than the minutes 
of our lives we are saying thank you 
with the words going out like cells of a brain 
with the cities growing over us 
we are saying thank you faster and faster 
with nobody listening we are saying thank you 
we are saying thank you and waving 
dark though it is

So, yes, it's probably mostly an environmental and anti-war poem (both good things in themselves), but it can't be ignored that there must be a definite recipient of the thanks.  And sure, Merwin did actually move to Hawaii in order to study with a Zen Buddhist master, so we probably don't think along the exact same Creator lines.  But I can't help but be captivated by the realism, simplicity, and unstoppable momentum of the poem.  Plus, I may even claim it as one of my favorites, if only for the last few lines.  For some reason, when I read them, I've always pictured a little girl, standing on a balcony in the middle of dark night, standing on her tiptoes and stretching her hand as high as she can reach in order to wave to the One and Only God, who, though she can't see it, smiles back.  

It’s beautiful.