Cathy Turner

Cathy Turner

Yesterday I spent the day hanging out with our son, Randall. We met at the Y and played pickleball. Afterward, since his roommates were out of pocket for the day, and his dad, my companion, was out of town, Randall decided to spend some time at the home place for the day. But first we went to lunch.

While we were lunching, we did some short-term reminiscing about our family holiday time. We both decided that the highlight of our holiday time was ice skating at the Rockefeller Center with Randall's five-year-old daughter, Mica. When I realized that we would be in New York City for Christmas, I knew that I wanted us to do this and the only takers were Randall and Mica. So we booked one of the 70-ish skate hours (starting every 10 minutes) on the day after Christmas with the other 50+ people in our flight. The Christmas tree and golden statue towering over the rink were big, lit, and beautiful. Truthfully, the rink seems small as we waited, but as I tried to step my sixty-two-year-old foot on the sheer ice of the entry, the rink seemed impossible. I pulled myself on, clung to the rail, and scooched myself along, praying that I wouldn't fall for the first 10 minutes. Then I remembered my core, stood up straight, and remembered how I skated years ago. I decided that I wasn't an old woman. And a few minutes later, I decided I could make it all the way around without holding on. It wasn't pretty - you know – an old black woman with flailing arms – but I made it without falling. Actually, I never fell. Amazing.

I was so glad that I got over my fear so that I could enjoy the time with my granddaughter, who without fear, scooched one foot in front of the other all over that rink.  She was so cute in her pink puffy coat with stars and her pink and white hat and gloves. We had so much fun checking on each other as her dad dance circles around us.  Blessed Christmas.

Last night, as he and I watched “Hawkeye” on Disney+, they showed the Rockefeller rink in the show, and Randall and I said almost simultaneously, “We've been there!”  Nothing braggadocious about it – just sheer amazement!  If you would have told me when I was little that I would get to do such a thing, I would not have believed you, mostly because I didn't know anything about it. But my kid does and his kid does. I'm grateful for my present opportunities. Truly, I was thankful for what I had back then too. Like the church sign I said, “Gratitude makes what you have be enough.”  

As I said to my son yesterday at lunch, after we gave thanks, “The food tastes better when you know from Whom it comes.”  In lack, in plenty – just be grateful.  I don’t make my lungs move, but I sure am glad they do.  Blessed life.

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