Joyful Thanksgiving

I wrote this Thanksgiving post about joy back in 2011. Fifteen years, a lot of grief and one brave granddaughter later, here’s what I’ve learned about joy since.

I have a confession to make. I completely forgot I ever wrote this post! I stumbled across it while tidying up some old corners of the blog, and I sat there reading words I’d written fifteen years ago. It felt a little like finding a letter from an old friend. That old friend just happened to be me!;)

So I decided not to delete it or polish it up. Instead, I want to share what I wrote back then, and then sit with you for a few minutes and talk about all that has happened since.

What I Originally Wrote Back in 2011

Almost every night in life, my husband and I end our days with a books in our hands.  I’m propped up in bed on my fluffy pillows holding my {usual} book of choice – a nice, sweet Christian novel that ends “happily ever after”.  “Brain candy” my husband calls them.:)  He, on the other hand, chooses the deep side of literature –  the kind of books that make you really think.  He’ll interrupt our reading sessions to say, “Oh, listen to this” and rattle off some amazing quote.  More often than not, he has to read it to me at least twice before I can wrap my mind around it…

But I’ve just started reading a book – out of my normal “book of choice” category – that is rocking my world.  It’s been recommended to me with rave reviews by more than one person, so it’s been on my mental “want to read” list for a while now.

Yesterday, my friend put her copy in my mailbox.

I started reading it…and can hardly put it down.

The author has an incredibly unique writing style.  It’s  sort of “poetic” …but not exactly.  I’m not a huge fan of poetry.

But somehow, the way she fashions her words forces my mind to slow down.  To take it in.  To take a concept, and instead of just racing over it, it instead wraps itself around the fibres of my brain –  or…more accurately…my heart.

I’m only on chapter 3, but it has already changed my perspective on the everyday.  The premise of the book is the author’s journey into thanksgiving.  And joy. On a daily ~ moment by moment ~ basis.

Joy.  I’ve always loved that word.  In fact, in my Bible college days, I did a sermon assignment on it.  (Of course they called it “public speaking” since we were women!).  I discovered while digging into the meaning of the word,  that true joy is closely tied with peace.  The kind of peace that can only be given by our Father God Himself.  The kind of joy/peace that roots deep in our soul and abides…no matter how sad or awful or wonderful or good the situation we are currently living in.

I thought of that as I read this pivotal paragraph in Ann’s book:

“So then as long as thanks is possible…I think this through.  As long as thanks is possible, then joy is always possible.  Joy is always possible.  Whenever,meaning – now; wherever,meaning – here.  The holy grail of joy is not in some exotic location or some emotional mountain peak experience.  The joy wonder could be here!  Here, in the messy, piercing ache of now, joy might by – unbelievably – possible!  The only place we need see before we die is this place of seeing God, here and now.” ~ excerpt from page 33 of “One Thousand Gifts” by Ann Voskamp

Amen.  And thank you, Jesus, for being the one who gives us joy.  True.  Lasting.  Abiding.  Joy.

May I never take that for granted.

…and by the time I finish this book, I might become a lover of poetry!:)

Looking Back Now

I can’t remember now exactly what I thought of the book by the last page. (Except, I can say that I didn’t convert to loving poetry! ha ha) But I do find it interesting that the two things I was thinking about that Thanksgiving -gratitude and joy – are still two important life values of mine all these years later.

What I Didn’t Know Then

The years since that post have brought things I never would have chosen. We have said goodbye to people we love dearly and grief has become part of our DNA. It really does change the way you see everything.

And we have walked a road with our granddaughter, Remi, that we didn’t anticipate or expect, either.

Remi is our sweet, tender-hearted granddaughter who loves her dolls and the colour pink. She started her life very small: three pounds, three ounces. She was born premature and spent her first 26 days of life tucked in at a neonatal intensive care unit.

She was born during those notorious “sheltering” years, so only her mom & dad (and the hospital staff) could sit beside her at the hospital. Instead, we waited for the daily updates from our son and daughter-in-law, and we prayed over every single milestone. Remi surprised the doctors, and all of us, by hitting her preemie milestones ahead of schedule. (If you have a NICU family in your life, I shared some gift ideas that truly help in this post about gifts for NICU families.)

Then, when she was a year and a half old, Remi was diagnosed with spastic diplegic cerebral palsy, which affects her legs and sometimes her hands. This grandma has prayed fervently ever since that one day she would walk…

This Thanksgiving

Remi has been under the care of an amazing medical team, and this fall, a few weeks before Canadian Thanksgiving arrived, she had a very special surgery that only a few children with cerebral palsy are approved for. It’s called a selective dorsal rhizotomy, or SDR. It’s a complex surgery that takes multiple surgeons, followed by about three months in rehab. Our hope is that it releases the spasticity in her legs so she can move more freely, and avoid a life filled with constant surgeries and hospital stays – and ultimately – miraculously! – that she will be able to walk unassisted one day.

Many of you have followed along on Instagram, and I can’t tell you what it meant to us. People from all over the world told us they were praying for her. Thousands of you. They say it takes a village to raise a child, and you have become part of Remi’s Village. I still get teary thinking about it.

Remi came through the surgery, and her recovery has been phenomenal to watch. She is in a rehab hospital right now, working hard every single day in physical therapy, occupational therapy and speech therapy.

And here’s the thing that keeps coming up in the comments and messages, over and over again: her eyes and her smile – mixed with a dogged determination to push through physical struggles. People say she is the very definition of joy. I agree.

What Remi Is Teaching Her Grandma About Joy

In 2011, I thought of joy as a quiet peace I could notice on an ordinary day. I still believe that. But Remi has shown me something I didn’t understand back then.

Joy shines bright – even right in the middle of hard things.

She keeps going when things are difficult. She works hard when it would be so much easier to stop. She smiles in a hospital room. Her perseverance and her willingness to keep trying are a lesson she is teaching her grandma right now.

I think that’s what Ann Voskamp meant all along. The gifts are right here, now, even in the middle of the hard parts. Sometimes they look like a brave little girl’s smile hugging a Care Bear tight.

Counting the Gifts This Thanksgiving

Ann Voskamp’s book began with a dare to write down one thousand gifts. I’d love to invite you to start your own list this Thanksgiving. It doesn’t have to be a thousand. Start with one.

Here’s mine: Remi’s smile on a hard day, and thousands of people praying for her.

What’s one gift you’re thankful for this year? I would truly love to read it in the comments below.

With so much love and thankfulness,
Rita Joy aka “Grandma Rita”