July Two, Thank You

 

                My eyes open and I say, “Thank you, God,” sometimes deliberately out of a gladsome heart and other times on autopilot.

                This morning, July 3, I started out on autopilot.  I remembered what my grandson Benjamin used to say when he was a baby: “blah, blah, blah.”  It’s a “blah” day. My joints creak and my muscles ache. For two years, I’ve had very little of the fibro aches and pains, but now they have resurfaced, sapping both energy and motivation.  I’m getting tired of social distancing and staying at home.

                I need a pick-me-up, so after getting ready for the day, I head out in my car with a short list of yard sales in hand.  Along the way, I’ll treat myself to a Starbucks cold brew.  It feels good to leave the house.  Driving alone often unleashes spontaneous song-prayers, and today is no different.  Remembering that I don’t have to pretend cheer for God, I don’t.  I say it, I sing it that I’m kind of depressed and ask for his presence.  I don’t feel it, but that is okay.  Gradually, over my lifetime, I am learning that faith is not based on feelings.

                Yesterday (July 2)  I picked up Benjamin from summer school to take him home. Our routine never varies. The teacher’s aide brings him outside, and I take his hand to walk to my car.  He is happy, thumb pulling up his shirt as he wags his hand in front of his face.  (Benjamin, now eleven and still nonverbal, has a dual diagnosis of Down Syndrome and autism.) I have the back door open for him, and he pauses at the window, waving his hand on the glass, before he climbs on his booster seat. I buckle him in, he moves his head toward me, and I kiss his forehead.  He makes a happy sound and grins, wagging that hand in front of his face while I close the door.  On the drive home, I sing to him, a blend of songs he knows and songs I make up just for him.

Thursdays are the day seven-year-old Joelle has commandeered as her special time with grandma, so after I spend a little time with Josiah and Ava while Benjamin eats his late lunch, she leads the way to my car.  She buckles herself in.  In the family van, her job is to buckle Benjamin in, too.  We head out, and she is full of questions, starting off with “What are we going to do today, Grandma?” She keeps a constant commentary going as I mail a letter and use the drive-through at the bank to pick up a couple check registers.  Every little action spurs questions and conversation.  I ask if she would like to go walk around at the mall, and she is delighted.  “Can we go to the girlie store?” she asks, and I rightly guess she means Claire’s.  We walk, hand in hand, and browse “girlie stuff” in Claire’s and toys in Goody’s. After ice cream and a sojourn to my house, we’re off to home again. 

                My “blah” day has taken a turn now that I’ve written about yesterday’s time with my grandchildren.  “Thank you,” I say to the One who always listens.  “Thank you for reminding me of my many blessings.”