Tonight, over slices of sugar-free pumkin pie (not good), I talked with my mom (very good). With the children "dance-skating" in their feet-pajamas nearby, we did our best to converse over their squeals and dance moves.
"So, it's November," Mom said to me.
"Yup," I answered, struggling to swallow all that artificial sweetener.
"When should I come over?" she offered with a twinkle in her eye.
"Uh. Oh," I said, shaking my head and clearing my throat. "I have Bible study at our house, Mom. They'll all know."
She shrugged. "Wanna do my house first?"
"Yes!" I pounced on the opportunity. "What day?"
"Friday? Thursday?" She offered.
"Whichever," I answered. "As long as we do your house first. Then, if anyone teases me, I can say you started it."
In an act of motherly sacrifice, she nods her agreement. "Definitely."
"But we'll still be thankful," I resolve.
And I am.
I'm thankful for November. Thanksgiving. The Pilgrims. Our God. Our families. Our country. Our home. Our health...And for hundreds of other things I could list. But if I was writing a truly honest list of thankfulness, somewhere on that list, scribbled under running water and before fall colors, I would have to admit that I'm thankful for the chance to pull down dusty boxes with my mother, and welcome in the Savior's birth season.
Don't go getting all judgmental on me, y'all.
I'm thankful, very thankful. I'm just a planner...with a super busy end-of-the-month schedule...and a mother that started playing Christmas music in August.
Resting in the Anticipation of Tomorrows Amidst the Joys of Today,
P.S. More on my Christmas preparations to come. Send me your hate mail. I promise to read every last biting word. After I get the nativity scene set up on the mantle.