Peggy Dover

I know what you’re thinking. You’re concerned that this is going to be another sappy what-I’m-thankful-for rant and start reaching for the remote.

Well, if using the space of one column out of 52 to say thanks is sappy, or if taking one day — one measly day — out of the year to give thanks for all the wonderment this world has to offer is sap-worthy, or if you are listed among my treasures, then yes, yes it is. In fact, this one is so sap-ridden, you better have a bottle of rubbing alcohol handy (for removing sap, not drinking!). I thought I better start early instead of waiting for next week’s official green flag. I’ll still be counting when the big day arrives.

It’s too easy to gripe. I have a melancholic tendency to focus on what I’m missing — what I haven’t done, dreams left unconquered, places I may never see, broken relationships, loved ones I’ve lost (that’s a biggie).

Ungratefulness weaves a bold pattern that commands attention. Our remaining friends and family miss their loved ones, too, so I miss valuable opportunities when I’m blessing-blind. It’s like staring at a cellphone at the mercy of what’s thrown our way instead of actively deciding what deserves time and attention.

I don’t mean to preach, much. Recently, I began thinking about the endless good in my life and immediately started feeling better. The boys noticed the change and hoped in vain for more food.

I’m thankful for friends (an obvious but never overblown choice), who have become like family. I think how my world would change without them and how transient life is. I want them to know I care now, not in some impromptu sentiment I scribble on their memoriam page. I’m learning to be grateful for the little things in others that bug me, which I’d give anything to endure once they’re gone. I don’t want to add more of that regretful pain to the load.

To my closest friends, Lane, Lynn, Denise, Betsy, sister Nancy, and Teresa (though we rarely talk), I love you and am thankful to know the eccentricities of you. You are precious beyond words. To all the wonderful others I call friends, though time is a fence that limits, and there’s not enough to fully know one another, I’m thankful for the tidbits. I love and laugh with my work family — Julie, Ellen, Sherry, and Gretchen. We’re working on nicknames.

Here are a few more items on my tip-of-the-volcano gratitude list:

How about the incredibly beautiful fall we’ve enjoyed. For the maintenance crew who cleans up my glorious color once it has fallen — Andrew and Martin of Crater Landscape Management and their helpers. I will bake for you. For the plentiful rain gifted from above that has driven a scary drought back to whence it came. For Aunt Sophie, my cozy home. Though she is aged (1900), I love that about her. She currently retains the flavor and wear of a 2004 redecoration. She’s a character and my haven of rest. For King Edward and Cricket, my reigning cats, who give me purpose twice daily at feeding times. For air-conditioning in summer, dark chocolate, geraniums, possums, etc.

I’m thankful for my grandmother, Eva Mae Graesser Dover Hume, who was born in a sod hut in South Dakota on this day in 1895. She was wise, gracious, and my best friend after moving here. Without her, someone else might be typing some drivel. I’m glad it’s me because I’m eternally grateful for the connection with readers who have been with me for years and for the newbies who have little clue what’s in store (heaven help them).

I’m thankful for the many things I have done, dreams I have conquered, places I have visited, and loved ones who have moved on and left happy place memories.

I’ll be listing for days, but won’t keep you from making your own list — a gift to yourself.

Most of all, I’m thankful to a Savior who made hope for a new world possible and puts the give in Thanksgiving.