Tag: gratitude

Starting Now…

Posted on January 7, 2013 by Jennifer Wolfe

I’m starting now as if I haven’t already been up for hours…

as if I haven’t made the coffee and the bright red tea kettle hadn’t whistled for your pomegranate green tea…

as if I haven’t cooked the peppered bacon, veggie omelet with mushrooms, onion and crunchy green bell pepper, held together with gooey cheddar cheese…

as if I haven’t sliced the juicy melon or packed the food for your skiing lunch break…

as if I haven’t folded last night’s final load of laundry, and the washer wasn’t humming with today’s first…

as if I haven’t carefully packed your ski boot bag with dry gloves and hand warmers…

as if I haven’t re-positioned the blankets on our bed…

as if I haven’t received an unexpectedly long good morning hug and comforted you when your legs felt like jello and you’re not sure you can make it out the door in the dark, frosty air…

as if I haven’t already had three cups of that coffee with cream and cleared the dishes from the breakfast table…

I’m starting now as if today was all about me…

and grateful that it isn’t.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

Dear Family, Love J

Posted on November 23, 2012 by Jennifer Wolfe

Dear Family,

Last night, as we slumped around the table, bellies full and wine glasses empty, I took my turn and shared two words of gratitude. Surprised, you asked if that was all. The truth is, it wasn’t, but at the time, those were the only words I could say out loud. Now, hours later in the light of day, I have the rest.

I am grateful for the dawn over the Sierras inching up, pale pink to my left, golden yellow to my right, unveiling my angels sleeping in the back seat.

I am grateful for the dark roast with cream warming next to me as I type, helping me greet every morning with a smile.

I am grateful for the new and the old, the memories that push me forward into the future and those that ground me in the past.

I am grateful for air conditioning, Bintang beer and chocolate-center Cotton Buns. You saw me through some challenging times last summer.

I am grateful for friends I’ve made and lost, friends I’ve seen and those I have only thought of. You may not know it, but I listen to you and learn more about myself from your presence.

I’m grateful for curiosity, challenge and conflict. From them, I grow into a better human.

I’m grateful for brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, uncles and aunts, grandmothers and grandfathers. Your eyes help create my vision, even when they don’t see in the same direction.

I’m grateful for simplicity, complication, and everything in between. It always seems to come at just the wrong, yet just the right time.

I’m grateful for the 6,000,000-plus like-minded people who turned left, not right, and helped me see a future.

I’m grateful for the wind whistling through the trees. Some say it’s the spirit talking. I’m thankful I believe them.

I’m grateful for language. The words I write, the sounds I hear, and the letters I read teach me in a way I learn best.

I’m grateful for faith, wavering in and out, back and forth, between the sky, the spirits, and the universe. Sometimes, you’re all I’ve got.

I’m grateful for June 29, 1985. Our worlds collided then, and life has been a doozy ever since.

Now, I’m back to where I began. Two words. Two spirits. Two reasons to face each day, to walk the talk, to take a step forward when what I really want to do is stay right where I am. Because when the pink glow is gone, replaced by a blaze of red, or orange, or a blanket of black, those two words are all that matter.

And that, dear family, is what I’m grateful for.

Love,

Jennifer Wolfe

Friday Photo: A Last Gasp of Summer

Posted on September 7, 2012 by Jennifer Wolfe

A quick bike ride down the lake led us to one of our favorite gazing spots. We parked and climbed out onto the rocks. The sun, rising quickly, warmed our faces and beckoned us with possibilities. The wind whistled through the pines, and the waves lapped gently against the granite. The hum of a boat radio drifted in the air, breaking the silence. We sat, transfixed with the the horizon. Crystal clear, icy cold water rippled and went still. My breathing slowed and my heart expanded. Gratitude for all we have had together, and all that is before us, led us back to our bikes, eager to go home.

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