259, 260

259: The two-week camping trip has ended! The "gorl" is home, and I am grateful.

260: "In eternity there is indeed something true and sublime. But all these times and places and occasions are now and here. God culminates in the present moment, and will never be more divine." I'm grateful for Henry David Thoreau's words, and that I came across them today.

258

Out at the beach again today, C and I noticed a couple of young men scuffing out a message in the sand. It was impossible not to notice, as the message, F*** U, was writ large enough to be seen from a low flying plane. I hoofed it up and down the steps a few times, pondering the situation (as I panted) and trying to decide what to do about it. I wondered what would drive them to engrave the letters on the sand. I thought about it metaphorically--words written in sand never last long.

Finally I just decided to ask them what was up. The guy I approached was wearing a white cap, backwards. "What's this all about?" I asked, pointing at the words.

"Freedom of speech," he said, immediately defensive.

"Are you going to sign your name to it?"

"No. Does it bother you?" he asked. He hoped it did.

"I just want to know why you're doing it," I said. "I'm a writer. I like to know why people do things--what's going on in their heads."

"I'm leaving for Iraq in four days," he said.

His candor caught me off guard. "D-does it make you mad? More than you bargained for?"

"Yeah," he said, squinting up at me. It was the first time he'd looked me in the eye. "A little overwhelming, actually."

We talked a little more. He told me where he was going--first to Texas to train, then to Saudi Arabia, finally Iraq. I told him I had a BIL who had been there. I told him to stay safe. And then we left.

"I still don't approve," I said to C as we walked to the van, "but at least now I understand a little better."

It was C's idea to put all this in Daily Bread, but I still don't know what in that whole thing I'm thankful for.

256, 257

256: I'm grateful for found "kid money," which is what B calls the bills I fold up and stuff in various pockets and then forget about--until I find them again when I put on the pair of shorts I was wearing or that coat I had on. Which is what I did today. It always feels like "found" money; I never think about how for a while it was "lost" money.

257: C is practicing for his Appalachian Trail hike so I took him out to the beach, where there are many, many steps (photo by Mary, as usual, seen here in front of the lense instead of behind it, for a change), which he climbs with a backpack that weighs 20 pounds. Because I'm trying to get into shape for tennis, I decided to do stairs with him (which actually means behind him, as he has young legs). The view from the top is breathtaking, even when you're not winded. I'm grateful for true-blue skies, blinding sunlight, and whipping cold wind, all of which scrub the senses clean. And today my senses needed a good scrubbing.

253, 254, 255

253: Lynn is a people gatherer--she gathers people together, invites them in, delights in their company. Tonight she did it again with just the women this time. We all have things going on in our lives. Some of us are facing huge issues; others just the normal stuff that makes up the fabric of our lives. In any case, we offer each other whatever we can--an empathetic smile, an entertaining story, an open heart. Basically, we keep each other company on the journey and that's no small thing. I'm grateful for Lynn and all my good friends.

254: I'm not the best person at saying what I need: I don't want to impose or _____ (whatever). But from my friend A., I'm seeing that in being able to tell people what you need, you give them a gift. When A. says what she needs, she gives me the gift of certainty that I'm helping her in exactly the way she wants to be helped (rather than guessing) and she gives me the gift of letting me in. I'm grateful for the times when people say what they need.

255: I always say I'm not going to cry at the little Memorial Day parade that wends its way through downtown and to the cemetary, and then I cry anyway. I'm grateful for all the veterans who served our country and for the men and women who are serving right now.

250, 251, 252,

250: C's lacrosse season is always short and today was their last game. The team they played had beat them by a lot the previous time they met, but this time C's team won by several points. I'm grateful for the win because the boys played hard and deserved it, and I'm grateful for windbreakers, winter hats, mittens, and a blanket because the spring wind still blew cold here, in spite of the date on the calendar.

251: I'm grateful I live close to downtown--especially with gas prices the way they are. $4.20/gallon here. We often walk downtown, but tonight I wanted to get there faster so I hopped on M's bike. I like hers better because it's a girl bike and way more stylish than my older bike.

252: She called! She called! While she left a message earlier in the week, this is the first time I got to talk to M from her camping trip. She says she's staying warm and having a really good time and that people liked the casserole she and her friend had to cook for dinner "more than I thought they would!" (It was tuna, rice, and cream of chicken soup, as I recall--no recipe necessary, apparently.) Yesterday they kayaked on the big lake. "Do you know how hard it is to kayak into the wind on the lake?" she asked. I don't. Nor do I have any desire to, just as I have no desire to camp for two weeks. But she does! I heard so many things in her voice--happiness, excitement, pride, confidence. Some people dis our school because of project term, which this camping trip is part of. "What are they learning?" someone recently asked with a smirk. To which I replied, "Teamwork, critical thinking skills, problem solving, self-reliance. You know--only things they'll be able to use daily for the rest of their lives." (Okay, I didn't actually say. I only wish I had.)

247, 248, 249

247: Think Hope, a silent auction that my friend Lois started a few years ago, raised $6,000 for Community Action House. I'm grateful for all the people who--through organizing, donating to, cooking for, waiting tables at, and attending--give me hope that the world is in better shape than it appears to be when you watch the news.



248: I'm grateful to have survived a trip to Meijers. All I wanted was some fresh fruit, for heaven's sake. But as long as we were going for that, we thought we'd do all our grocery shopping there. BIG MISTAKE. Next time, I'll just get the produce there.



249: At 3:00 a.m., we took M. to school to leave for her two-week camping trip. Much later, thanks to the miracle of technology, I was able to watch their ferry pull into the harbor. I'm grateful she arrived safely and that it wasn't raining. I miss her already.

243, 244, 245, 246

243: Down at Kollen Park in the middle a bed of multi-colored tulips is a lone white tulip, taller than the rest. Mary thinks it's saying, "Look at me! Look at me! I'm pretty, too, even though I'm only white." This makes me smile every time I walk through the park and see that tulip. I'm grateful that plain can be beautiful--and taken together, a bunch of plain can turn out exceptional, as Mary's photo shows.

244: I'm grateful the rain stopped before M and her class went on the trial overnight camping trip.

245: I'm thankful I followed my whim and threw a loaf of bread into the machine, thinking it would be nice for the kids to smell when they got home from school. But then, just as I was taking the loaf out, I heard from a friend who'd received some worrisome news. I wanted to do something just to let her know I was thinking of her--and there on my cutting board was a warm loaf of bread.

246: Earlier this spring some of my friends took up tennis. And I've had a little bit of an ache in my heart because tennis is my sport but ever since I had foot surgery two years ago, I've felt like playing is not an option. Too risky. Feet could get hurt. More surgery might be needed. Bad idea, very bad. So while I was happy for my friends, because I know how satisfying it is to thwonk the ball, I was also feeling sorry for myself. Late today I dusted off my tennis racquet, biked to the courts with my friends, and just tried it. My feet will be stiff in the morning, but they served me well (ha ha). I'm grateful my friends organized the outing and, for the third or fourth or fifth time since they started playing said, "You should come along."

242

Mary Margaret (not me) received some fan mail today. The girl who wrote the note was nine and she asked Mary Margaret (not me) if she had a pet "in real life." So she understands that the story about MM is fictional, but she thinks MM herself is real and has a real life beyond the boundaries of the book. I'm grateful for readers who totally (and sometimes permanently) suspend their disbelief and simply allow the character to live.

Coda: The girl asked MM to write her back and MM did write a little note back, using lots of different colors of fonts because MM is stylish like that. Then the girl wrote another e-mail to MM date-stamped 5:34. At 5:37, this final email: "Well! I can't write to you anymore! Sorry!" (All MM's fans use lots of exclamation points!!!!!)

241

So, I mentioned to my sister Julee (who lives in CA) that my parents seemed out of sorts in their temporary apartment, where they are staying for a few days while their real apartment gets a facelift. She called them and inferred from the conversation that it would be easier on Dad if he had his chair. She called my brother Andy (he lives in the area), who then visited Mom and Dad today and moved Dad's chair into the apartment. Now my parents seem much happier. I'm grateful to have siblings who play nicely and work well together--even from afar.

238, 239, 240

238: A variety of situations went awry today--one of which had the potential to do serious bodily harm to M. and/or to me. I'm grateful we managed to come through unscathed.

239: There is a certain writer friend whom I respect a great deal but every time I talk to him about a project, as I did today, my self confidence takes the first flight south. It's not anything he says; he just exudes confidence and I. . .don't. I fretted for a few hours about the conversation and then mentioned it to another writer friend, whom I respect just as much as I respect Mr. Man Writer. I told her about how my confidence just disappears when I talk to him. And she said two magical words that changed everything: "Me, too." Then we laughed about how silly it is that we both feel that way, when I think she's a fine writer and she thinks I'm a fine writer. I'm grateful she reset my gyroscope.

240: I'm grateful the kids are finished with exams and my friend is home from the hospital. It's been a draining week. While the rest of my family went to a Tulip Time gathering, I stayed home to gather myself, which brings me to a few other things I'm grateful for--a glass of wine, fresh broiled asparagus, and a few hours of solitude.

236, 237

236: I finished a sh***y first draft. I went for a walk. The tulips were at their most gorgeous--pink ones with white frosted edges, yellow ones so spiked that they'd rival the spinning wheel that pricked Sleeping Beauty's finger, white ones shot through with veins of pink. All are beautiful, but only one heart-breakingly so: the red ones, so saturated in color that you think the flower itself can't possibly hold it all and in the next instant they are sure to drip blood. I'm grateful for tulips. (Yet again I surprise myself.)

237: I'm grateful my friend came through surgery without complications. There are other things, but they pale in comparison.

235

He's known about the history project for weeks, my son. He pecked away at it here and there, but not too seriously. The weather was getting nice, and he had lacrosse to play and Guitar Hero to master. Today push came to shove. He spent at least five hours this afternoon finishing the project. But I have to give him this: He sucked it up. He didn't complain or rail at how unfair it was. He just put his head down and did the work. I'm grateful he can be graceful, or at least accepting, under pressure. It's a life skill that will serve him well.

234

Dad turned 77 today. It's a doubly lucky number and I'm doubly lucky to have him for a father. Here are some of the things I've learned from him so far. You can't be afraid to live. You can't legislate morality. No use crying over spilt milk. Make hay while the sun shines (or, gather your rosebuds while ye may). Recently, I've been struck by how he let us make mistakes, especially as young adults. "Hey, it's your life," he'd say with a shrug. It was and it is and I'm so grateful he's a part of it.

233

It was the quote that caught my eye--"Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage." Thinking of recent experiences with Rocco, I bought it for M and told her that because of her courage, I knew her life would be expansive. "Expansive or expensive?" she asked. I'm grateful for the way she still makes me laugh, unexpectedly.

232

232: Tonight was the year-end party for Kids Hope, the mentoring program I'm part of. We all went bowling, then played bingo, then ate dinner back at the church. It was an a-ha kind of evening for me, as I watched Jean (in her seventies) bowl with her mentee, Judy (also in her seventies) run the program--I mean the entire Kids Hope program for the whole year, not just the awards ceremony--and Ann (again, into her seventies) help with the food preparation. I'm grateful for all the strong, active, intelligent, generous older women I have in my daily life, showing me what's possible.

230 & 231

230: C. had a lacrosse game tonight; I'm grateful M and I made it back from riding in time for me to watch his team play.

Speaking of riding, M and I were both nervous going out to the pasture to get Rocco. M reminded me that a horse can smell fear a mile away. Suddenly I remembered that song from The King and I: "Whenever I feel afraid, I hold my head up high, And whistle a happy tune, and no one ever knows, I'm afraid." And I was so busy trying to figure out why the lyrics didn't rhyme, that I forgot I was afraid. And Madeline was so busy rolling her eyes at my bad singing that I think she might have forgotten, too. (Just now I googled the lyrics and found the missing words: "erect" and "suspect.")

231: I got a royalty check today for one of my books. As most midlist authors know, this is a rare thing, and always something to be grateful for.