Every Day and Everyday Gratitude: Christmas Lights Aged Thirteen Years

a pile of old lights

The old Christmas lights have hung on the back patio since my-then-eighteen-year-old son dug them out of the Christmas boxes and strung them for a Valentine's dinner for his girlfriend. I backtracked in my brain.

He was a senior in high school. 2003.

He planned the lights. The music. The food. He must have done something right, because after they graduated from college, she agreed to be his wife.

The lights--normal indoor Christmas lights purchased on clearance from Walmart or Target--have survived monsoons, summer temps of over 115 degrees, and occasional rainstorms. If I could remember the brand name of these all-weather-survivors, I would go purchase boxes and boxes for all my holiday decorating.

On Saturday, I decided to string new lights to replace the old strands that quit working sometime last year. First, I had to cut down the old lights, no easy task since the cats' claw vine on the back patio has been growing for thirteen years, weaving itself among all the connecting wires.

I cut and snipped and tossed old lights on the concrete below. Glass shattered.

Thirteen years. A long time.

If I had to string together the entire length of events celebrated on that patio for thirteen years, I would not be able to untangle them in linear order from my memory.

I have only a snippet here. And piece there.

• The Thanksgiving with Granny, age 101, who wanted pumpkin pie. With real whipped cream.

• Twenty friends and family gathered for Zach's 18th birthday, including my parents who flew in to speak a birthday blessing, even though they had chemo in Minnesota that morning.

• My grandchildren with the garden hose, watering all the plants. And the concrete. And every stitch of clothing they wore.

• A photo taken of my mom with her five great-grandchildren under the shade of the orange tree.

new porch lights

Birthdays. Baby showers. Graduations. Bible studies. Outdoor Thanksgivings.

I gathered up the moments as I strung new lights under the eaves.

And was grateful.