A Simple Key to a Thankful Heart

What staying in the moment, pausing, ravens, and a thankful heart have in common:

I came over a rise on the Ridgeline Trail at South Mountain to discover two ravens doing “touch and go’s” off a boulder only twenty feet away, soaring in the air currents, oblivious to me or my dog. I took pics as fast as I could with my phone, not bothering about shadows, light, or focus. The identifying marks of hefty bill, shaggy neck, and wedge-shaped tail in flight were obvious, as was the typical monochromatic Goth attire from head to toe: black eye makeup, black toe polish and black feathers.

The pair called occasionally to each other, but mostly were silent in the early colors of the dawn as they soared and glided with only a few flaps of their four-foot-wide wingspan, before lowering their landing gear to start the process all over again.

The month of November is our culture’s season to take note of the ordinary and the out-of-the-ordinary, to pause and give thanks. I love the practice. The challenge. The intentionality. As a family, we have participated in different traditions during Thanksgiving, whether adding gratitude feathers to a paper turkey or tying leaves with grateful reasons to a small tree. As a parent and grandparent, I want to instill the value of gratitude. I know the challenge of giving thanks in the rush of our busy lives, where we don’t always take the time for reflection, to discover simple joy in the moment.

In his book, The Winding Path of Transformation, author Jeffrey Tacklind writes, “So much of life is a constant struggle to remain present. It feels like chipping away at something that we can’t quite see in its entirety. And then, every once in a while, we get these profound moments of deep joy.” In those moments, the veil is lifted, and we get a glimpse behind the curtain of all God has made to be good and beautiful. The only response possible is to give thanks.

I discovered such a moment when I came around the bend on a hike in South Mountain as I watched the flight of two common ravens, who in that frozen memory of time, were anything but common as they preformed a graceful dance above the desert foothills.

I paused. And gave thanks.

This story recently appeared in the SanTan Sun News. 

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In December, I will be opening up registration for the online workshop for those touched by cancer, Reclaim Your Scattered Story. Stay tuned.