The spiritual growth group that I am involved in this fall pivots around gratitude. One of the many potential tasks last week we were invited to take on was to thank someone who has inspired us. The list is many, and I hold that as a miracle. 

I started with finally mailing that check to the public radio I listen to. Although my listening time has been truncated from the hour I used to spend getting Ben to school to the five minutes it takes me to get to my office I still value the programs. My contribution could rightly express that. Sixty bucks felt generous until I did the math. That's $1.25 a week. It would buy two stamps for an annual mailing, or a cup of coffee for the journalist. But not both. 

The book One Thousand Gifts  is dear to me. The author invites us to count our blessings in ordinary moments. Last night the moments were more extraordinary than usual. One son was on face time with another to thank him for the sweet letter he had written. Our daughter called to ask if I would take on a sewing project for the wedding next October. It is all I can to to not start before she picks out colors. At dinner we finished up the last of the apple pie. Benjamin was singing at full volume. Golden leaves were falling outside the window. John fixed the dishwasher.

Then I thought thanking about a couple who lit a fire inside us for marriage work. How could I convey what their work has meant to me? I got out a handmade card and a pen. The least I could do is try.

No, the least I could do is nothing.