On Gloves and Gratitude

I lost it. Over a lost glove. (A glove, lost and found and lost and found and lost and found and lost and found, and now, again, the day before skiing, lost).

"Zip your coat back up." I snarled at my first grader. "We're going back inside."

"I just don't understand, Caed. Help me understand. How did you lose it again?" Dangerously close to yelling, it wasn't a question as much as an accusation. I unstrapped Dani, still puffy eyed in her post-nap stupor, and stomped my way up the walk like the mad mother duck, my two trailing behind as we passed the last bus loading.

"It was in my backpack, I know it, Mom," he came up beside. "I don't know how it got lost again."

I started to soften as we opened the door and headed for the lost and found. "I'm just disappointed, Bud. I really wanted you to be able to go to your last ski lesson. And it's like we told you, if you lose another pair of snow gloves--and we can't find them before your lesson tomorrow--you can't go skiing."

We sorted through mittens and hats and jackets of every size and color. No dice. (No gloves either).
We rounded the corner toward his classroom. Caed's teacher looked up from her desk and smiled. "Oh no. What did we lose this time?"

"One of his gloves," I said cheerfully, on my best behavior now, what, with the teacher watching.

"All I found is this one." She reached over and held up a black snow glove. "But I think it's Tommy's?"

"Oh yes, that's it--that's Caed's! Thank goodness!" I squealed, so relieved that he will make it to his last ski lesson after all. How I had dreaded the promised consequence.

Caed cracked a smile for the first time since his backpack came up one glove short of a full pair. We walked back to the car with hearts lightening, backpacks one glove heavier.

I asked forgiveness, of him, of Him, for losing it over a lost glove.
My little one smiled, nodded, hugged.
My God spilled grace like a rolled up river, untied.


Friends, I may not write them all down here, but I will write them all down, one thousand gifts and maybe beyond.

#1 A glove found six times over, and always in the nick of time

#2 A forgiving hug, a tender smile

#3 Skiing, father and son

#4 A six year old who has finally learned to control his speed on the blue slopes

#5 A six year old who may have learned to control his speed, but still chooses not to

#6 The story he wrote at school, "My favorit thing to do in the snow is to sky. I even have a sky lesson. I get to go on the rope, and my dad has no work so he can be with me."

#7 A Dad with "no work" on a snowy Saturday morning

#8 Fresh snow falling

#9 Dani and Caed, transforming the snow plow mounds into sledding hills and forts and secret passageways

#10 A crackling fire and a working furnace

#11 Hot cocoa and marshmallows, every day for three days and counting

#12 An outdoor run on a trail I can love year round

#13 How 30 degrees feels warm after a while

#14 Ibuprofin, after that 10 mile run caught up with me

#15 A failed first attempt at homemade ravioli, made good by the successful attempt at homemade chocolate chip cookies (Desert for dinner, anyone?)

#16 For grace like a rolled up river, untied.


Joining the counting, and sharing with the gratitude community.

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