Thanksgiving

O My God, Thou fairest, greatest, first of all objects,
my heart admires, adores, loves thee, for my little vessel is as full as it can be,
and I would pour out all that fullness before thee in ceaseless flow. When I think upon and converse with thee ten thousand delightful thoughts spring up, ten thousand sources of pleasure are unsealed, ten thousand refreshing joys spread over my heart,
crowding into every moment of happiness.

~A Puritan prayer of thanksgiving, from The Valley of Vision

It was a quiet Thanksgiving at my third brother's home, except for the sounds of the wind and my incessant sneezing. We were missing over a third of our clan, including all of the great-grandchildren. Duncan, nearly 10, was the youngest. There were no toys to step over, no high chairs, no babies needing held. We did Skype with one missing niece and her little guy, so at least we heard some toddler chatter.

We ate, played a few games, sat outside on the deck and chatted. By early evening I was too miserable to be sociable anymore, and we came home. I was in bed by 10 p.m., which is early for me. Today is another quiet day. No Black Friday shopping here; instead, we are enjoying a morning of utter laziness. I've stopped sneezing and blowing my nose. Bacon and eggs have been devoured. My Dad brought over the morning paper and all the ads, which I might scan later. Just in case I'm missing anything really amazing.

But I'm thinking all the amazing I need is right here.