Wonder
Today I am grateful for a nice conversation with my sister Danita and for the custard at Culver's.
Rather than wonder what "w" word I should start with, I am starting with wonder. Wonder really runs the gamut. I stand in wonder and watch the sun rise from my living room window. I stood on the deck of a boat and watched the wonder of blue glaciers in Alaska. I stood in wonder at the end of my first marathon. (I was also standing because I was too exhausted to move, but that was all part of the wonder.)
And then there are the "wonder cookies" I made this weekend. Darcy came across the recipe on Facebook and asked me to make them. The recipe he was reading had a drab name like chocolate oatmeal no-bake cookies, but I grew up knowing them as wonder cookies. I am sure mom appreciated the no-bake aspect, and I know her children appreciated the taste. They never lasted long, no wonder there.
There is the exciting, anticipatory wonder of questions like I wonder where Sam will go to college and if he'll get married. I wonder if and when we will become grandparents. I wonder if we'll be able to spend part of our retirement in a warmer climate. I wonder if I will publish a book someday.
And there are the frightening aspects of wonder. I wonder what my life would be like if I had kept drinking or if I started drinking again. I wonder if the kids will outlive Darcy and I. I wonder if my cancer, or someone else's, will ever come back.
It all brings me back to today, to revel in the wonder of life that regular gratitude practice and daily recovery from alcoholism creates. That's all I get. No sense wondering about tomorrow. It's not here yet.
Rather than wonder what "w" word I should start with, I am starting with wonder. Wonder really runs the gamut. I stand in wonder and watch the sun rise from my living room window. I stood on the deck of a boat and watched the wonder of blue glaciers in Alaska. I stood in wonder at the end of my first marathon. (I was also standing because I was too exhausted to move, but that was all part of the wonder.)
And then there are the "wonder cookies" I made this weekend. Darcy came across the recipe on Facebook and asked me to make them. The recipe he was reading had a drab name like chocolate oatmeal no-bake cookies, but I grew up knowing them as wonder cookies. I am sure mom appreciated the no-bake aspect, and I know her children appreciated the taste. They never lasted long, no wonder there.
There is the exciting, anticipatory wonder of questions like I wonder where Sam will go to college and if he'll get married. I wonder if and when we will become grandparents. I wonder if we'll be able to spend part of our retirement in a warmer climate. I wonder if I will publish a book someday.
And there are the frightening aspects of wonder. I wonder what my life would be like if I had kept drinking or if I started drinking again. I wonder if the kids will outlive Darcy and I. I wonder if my cancer, or someone else's, will ever come back.
It all brings me back to today, to revel in the wonder of life that regular gratitude practice and daily recovery from alcoholism creates. That's all I get. No sense wondering about tomorrow. It's not here yet.
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