GENDUSA COLUMN: Thankful for the Author

Published 10:30 am Wednesday, November 16, 2022

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This time of year, people often ask one another, “What are you most thankful for?” Depending on their current circumstances, the response is likely family, friends, wellness, or numerous other answers.  My brother was always grateful for ‘mashed potatoes’ when asked such a question at the Thanksgiving dinner table. Nevertheless, at least he was honest because he had no fondness for turkey, dressing, and cranberry sauce.  

This year, I know who and what I am most thankful for.  Today, my brother is in heaven, and I hope they have an abundance of butter-filled mashed taters in a bowl for him on Thanksgiving. I also hope Daddy gets two pecan pies and a dozen deviled eggs and Mama finally perfects her cornbread stuffing. 

Boy, am I thankful they are in a paradise where pounds, health and worries are gone. 

Our high school class recently held a reunion. What a treat! We have always been close and supportive of one another and collectively mourn when one of us leaves to reunite with God. We return to being teens, full of laughter and frivolity when we gather. How grateful I am for those who knew me young and are still with me old.  

I am thankful God blessed me with folks whose hearts will always remain lovingly youthful.

My granddaughter is finishing high school and applying to colleges. I often wonder what her future will hold, but there is no doubt it will be filled with wonderment. I have taught her a few things about what is important in life and what is not. On a recent trip, she was going through a bit of difficulty and asked to speak to me. After much discussion, she said softly, “Grandma will you pray with me?” 

I thank God she knows where to turn to find the awesome wonder. It is the same place I went to ask for her. My babies are grown now, but they are still my babies. Motherhood never changes. I will most likely be spouting instructions on my deathbed, and they will roll their eyes as they usually do. They have made me laugh, cry and experience abundant living. I cannot imagine what my life would be if they had never arrived. 

The Lord delivered them into my care, and I have no idea why I was chosen but how thankful I am for these precious babies of mine.

It took a long time for me to remarry. And when I did, it took much getting used to. Miss Independent, Miss I Can Do it All and Miss Stubborn rolled up into a mess. Then Mr. came into my world, and now I know I can’t do it all and may not be as independent as I thought. However, I am still stubborn and doubt that I will change. My Mr. Iron Man, who has never had as much as a cavity, got a bit of unexpected rust in his heart. Yes, the heart is going into the shop to be repaired, and hopefully, the Iron Man will be back playing tennis, golf and driving me crazy as usual. 

Except, I doubt I will ever see him the same again. I will relish his crazy ways, savor his yelling at me for being stubborn, and be thankful God decided I needed an Iron Man in my world.

My precious friends who have listened to my stories for years, reread them in print and applaud any victory I have, are just plain priceless. How could any of us handle living without friends? Every stage in life brings more pals, and none are ever forgotten.  

When the Lord thought to add friends to accompany us, he knew we would need laughter, support, and love until He called us home. So, what I am most thankful for is God. I see him clearly at the table with my family in paradise. I glimpse him walking among my classmates to remind us of our youth. His reflection is in my granddaughter’s eyes as He accompanies her toward the future. He alone decided to bless me with two girls and one little boy, and through them, I saw his abundant love. I noticed God again at the doctor’s office when His hand touched my shoulder and reminded me to trust him. 

When I wrote my first book, I pondered to whom I might dedicate it. Like a bolt of lightning, I knew. It was the one who created my life and all those who made it amazing. The first page proclaims, “This book is dedicated to God, the author of my soul.”