It's Thanksgiving and I'm looking for the miracles today. Tuesday I came up short since I had a reaction to the iodine contrast used in the CT Angiogram- my heart rate dropped to about 25 and the attending physician came running and stopped them from injecting me with anymore. We'd only gotten to 20cc's and to complete the test I'd need to receive 80cc's so they throught that might be just a little bit dangerous. So- I'm feeling sorry for myself- a trip into Boston, getting stuck with needles and waiting in the tiny waiting room with 4 other women, me the only one in a johnnie several sizes too small. I felt like a cow. Everyone else there was thin and obviously had undeserved heart problems, whereas, it had to be obvious what my arteries were full of. Incomplete test or not- I think we can be sure there are pounds of peanut butter fudge and Cinnabons wedged in my veins (with extra cream cheese frosting on the side, of course) I do make the best peanut butter fudge in the world, and my cream cheese frosting is even better than Cinabons'. I will miss fudge and frosting. Terribly. Holidays without them will be- what? What are they about if not food?.
Today is a day all about food. Thanksgiving was huge in my family growing up. All that last minute rushing around to clean, dust, vac, pick up clumps of dog hair, hide bags of stray papers and old magazines, my mothers to-do lists and her lists of her lists...The stess, the anxiety, the near panic. The excitement. You could taste it- sweet and heavy. Hard to hold... Up half the night grinding onions, celery and dried bread with the cast iron food grinder perched on the table edge.. My mother and me- talking, laughing, complaining, eating. Rolling dates stuffed with peanuts in sugar, piling them so high on the beutiful cut glass plate that annually came out of it's safe hiding place. Polishihng silver, putting the leaf in the huge claw foot dining room table. Dusting out the chandelier over the table so that when my brothers started the annual Thanksgiving Day Dirty Napkin Toss, the chandelier wouldn't rain dust down on the beautifully set table. My grandmother's china. The table looking like my mother needed it to- everything just so, polished and pristine. One day of the year she could pretend she was who she had once been, who she still hoped somehow she'd get back to being. Someone with beautiful things, breakable things, things that spoke of taste and class and not the shame I know she felt every other day of our lives in our dirty, messy house that spoke of class lost, opportunity squandered...
But that's not finding the miracle is it. Today my parents sit in NH all by themselves and I feel guilty but I know it is the best thing for them and the best thing for me this year. We had a good day here today. Our best friends Carol and Mary came with their foster son who last year was too traumatized to sit at the table with us and stood in the other room waiting for the next bad thing to happen to him. This year he sat with us, held our hands and said grace with us, ate 2 pieces of pumpkin pie and had an all together great day. There's the miracle for today- little Jonah looking safe and loved and whole.
Thank you God for foster parents everywhere who open their hearts and homes, and thank you for these two women who James Dobson and Pat Robertson and so many others on the far right believe are not fit to be parents, but thank God despite the judgement of many, these women have done what too few of us do- given the glass of water to the thirsty, clothes to the naked, shelter to the homeless. They have shared their love and treasure with a little boy who came to them a wounded stranger and is now being healed through the gift of their love for him, through the gift of belonging. A Thanksgiving miracle for sure.
4:42:53 PM 
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