There’s magic in the number seven, and power in the Ten Things of Thankful blog hop’s seventh anniversary this very week (1). Maybe, hopefully, there’s even more magic and power today in being thankful as the world crumbles and awakens.  

Lizzi was the hop’s original creator, as she’d begun practicing thinking of 10 things each day she was thankful for during a dark time in her life. I’m thankful (2) she had the foresight to see it as something worth sharing beyond her bedside journal and invited a bunch of us to co-host a weekly event where we, too, thought of 10 things each week to be thankful for. 

As it does, life happens, and we end up in places we weren’t expecting. She eventually passed the torch to Josie, who later passed it to Kristi (not me, the other one), who continues to keep the Thankful Torch burning. I’m thankful to be able to merge Finish the Sentence Friday with them this week for our seventh-anniversary celebration (3).

On Being Thankful As The World Crumbles and Awakens

I know I’m not alone in thinking that the past few years can suck it, for the most part. While there’s always beauty and thankfulness to be found in the day-to-day, let’s face it. It’s terrifying out there.

It began with COVID-19, worries, unemployment, school closings, and not knowing whether we’ll ever safely eat at salad bars again.

Now? We’re seeing peaceful protests and horrifying riots as a result of another (!) Black life not mattering. The brutal murder of George Floyd has brought new attention to the many ways in which 45 is the worst president we’ve ever had, but also has revealed more fully that hate has *always* been here. It’s been everywhere. 

OMG, friends. 

And yet, if there’s ever been a right-now, for-real example of thinking change and hope is possible when it comes to stopping systemic racism, it’s happening.

I’m more than thankful for that (4). 

As a privileged, middle-aged white woman typing this in a suburban, mostly-white neighborhood, I mourn the loss of so many Black lives, of the lives of immigrants seeking asylum, and general unfairness to everyone who wasn’t born with white skin. I have mourned this and written about it before, and sadly, fear I will again. 

But this time. This time feels different. I see so many of my white friends truly doing the work it takes to actively reject racism. 

Also, if you weren’t clear – it’s not enough to not be racist.

We must be ANTI-racism.

And if my tiny friend group on the interwebs is an indication, it seems like more and more of us realize this. Me included (5). We’re reading and sharing resources on how to better use our white skin and privilege to help stop this. I’m thankful for that (6). 

I’m thankful for people uploading videos that are painful and horrible to watch, because if we white folk hadn’t seen them with our own eyes, would we know (7)?

Would we care? 

I care. It feels like you do, too (8). 

White people have been trained, from birth and beyond to see-not-see. One Black man being killed by the police? A reaction may have been “What did he do?” To be fair, yes, the same reaction would hold true with *any* person killed by police. But videos and TRUTH have come out and we know. We’ve known for longer than we care to admit, but WE KNOW. 

I’m not here as some new truth-teller. That’s not my right. It is though, my duty to share and to learn.

I’m here, learning about my own racial biases, upbringing, and white privilege. Whether or not it’s comfortable for any of us, we white people have privilege and a LOT OF IT. 

I’m thankful that I recognize this (9) and am able to learn and, hopefully, to teach myself and my son to be better. 

In the midst of this, I’d like to say that of course, the day-to-day continues for many of us, even after making phone calls and trying to educate ourselves on Black and other POC experiences in this world. As I began this post last night, my son Tucker said “Mom, I”m going to watch a movie. Do you want to watch it with me?” 

Truthfully, I didn’t. I wanted to sit here and write, but (thankfully ←– see what I did there?) (also 10), I thought about past-hims and future-hims, and how he, in his still (for now) little-boy-voice, said “Mom, wanna watch with me?” and I stopped writing. 

I went to the couch which is only 12 feet away or so, but also an ocean when you’re a kid who wants your mom to sit with you, and I watched with him until it was time for sleep. I’m thankful I did that, and know I’ll be thankful for the memory when he’s a full-on-teen and wants less (if not little at all) to do with me, much less snuggle in front of a movie after dark on a weekday. 

Here’s to 2020 being not just the year we remember changing life forever due to cancelled school and vacations, breathing on one another or hugging, and wondering how much PTSD this will create for each and all of us. 

To this being the year when white people educate themselves on Black experience and other POC experiences. 

Here’s to 2020 being the year mentioned in history books as the time when the tide of systemic racism started to change. 

Here’s to 2020 being the year future generations read about and wonder how we were all so ignorant until today. 

Mostly, here’s to it being the year when we see the power in ourselves to make changes within and outside, and doing the work to get there.

With love to you all, and to myself, too,

Kristi