The Way of Being Grateful

Virtues are just as strong as vices. I ask myself if I'm a virtuous woman. I ask myself "Am I patient? Am I honest? Am I compassionate? Justified? Prudent? Faithful? Virtues are not easy. Vices are easy. I can easily say I can be too proud sometimes and I've known wrath. I can easily admit that envy, lust, and gluttony have caused much grief in my life. Roman philospher Cicero claimed that "Gratitude is a parent of the other virtues" although in many books written about virtues or vices, gratitude is not mentioned. Maybe that's because in November many of us celebrate the official holiday called "Thanksgiving Day" which was made an official holiday in 1863 by Abraham Lincoln. "The holiday was permanently fixed to the fourth Thursday of November by a law signed by President Franklin D. Roosevelt in 1941." (per google, 11/1/25)

Today is November 1, 2025. I'm "proud" of myself for not going out last night to celebrate Halloween. I wanted to. I had a costume. I still love those festivities. But I stayed home and was asleep in my comfy bed before midnight. I'm proud of myself because I didn't spend money trying to force myself into a group that never invited me. I'm proud of myself because I enjoyed all of the things I love about the holiday (candy and good food, dressing up, and funny decorations) all by myself, without a partner or an invitation. I didn't give up on the holiday, even if everybody else gave up on me or spending those kinds of times with me. Why should I? Why should I stop enjoying something I like or love just because no one else cares about it or me? You know why I didn't give up? Because I'm grateful. I'm grateful I know about the holidays. I'm grateful for the memories I have of the joy celebrating them. I'm grateful that I still want to enjoy them and still have a way to enjoy them. I'm even grateful that I have learned how to be all alone on any holiday without getting so depressed that I want to kill myself.

In another six months, I will celebrate another birthday and turn 55. I know, women are not supposed to talk about their age, especially if they look much younger. I always talk about my age. Why? Pride. Yeah, weird right. I'm "proud" of being old? Yeah. I'm proud and grateful. It has been a privilege to get old. Even with all the aches and pains I've had to survive. Even with all the losses and heartaches I've suffered and fought through wondering why or if it would be worth it. Yeah. I'm proud and grateful. I'm going to be 55 years old and I can't believe I had it in me. I can't believe I've survived 25 years over what I thought I'd see. I can't believe I've been this strong. I never thought I'd make it this far. It's the most amazing miracle I know. Me? Little fat underestimated, mostly forgotten, no talent me? Yeah. Me! I've travelled this life for 54 years and 55 is going to be as significant to me as the big 5-0, maybe even more so. I'm finally reaching the official age to get the AARP discount. I can't do the cartwheel or ice-skating thing anymore, but I'm a proud and grateful AARP member. Hurray!

November is feeling good. I'm feeling good. Yeah - I've got aches. Arthritis introduced himself to me and we've been acquainted for about 4 years now. I don't consider him a friend, but he comes around anyway. The humiliation of having to wear diapers was a tough one, but the gratitude for having the diapers and a place to hide when my bowels were acting their age, was a blessing. It's one thing to gripe about having to do extra laundry for not making it to the bathroom quick enough when you're home. It's another thing entirely to have to "age with grace" when you're in a public place in front of others with urine running down your leg or something stinkier in your underwear. Yet, I've laughed about it. I kept doing the laundry, and I kept laughing. So on a fresh, crisp November morning when the day is beautiful and I'm contemplating the official month of "gratitude" --- I can say "proudly" that I am grateful. I feel grateful and graceful, about my age, and the inner strength that was required to "keep on truckin" while everything that I once associated with dignity was reduced to smithereens.

Besides surviving some of the hardest years of my life, here's a long list of all the blessings I am grateful for each and every day of my old female life:

* Home. There's a roof over my head. There's a clean comfy bed to sleep in. I have a cellphone and a mailbox. I have a bathroom and a kitchen. My basic needs are met and if I don't start any trouble, usually I am in peace.

* Money. I don't have an "official" job title. I'm not considered rich. But I do have money in my account. I do get to enjoy a bit of freedom with that money when I get to decide that I want a chocolate donut or a purple bra. It's okay that I'll never afford a Mercedes Benz because I can buy a backbrace when my back hurts. It's okay that I'll never take a trip around the world or see the Northern Lights or the Swiss Alps, because I can buy a cane or a walker or a scooter when it gets to difficult to walk. That's something, and something is better than nothing.

* Hobbies. I don't have friends that call me every day. I'm not on a bowling team or a softball team. I don't coach the girl's cheerleading team. I don't have students to tutor, or children to babysit. I get lonely and bored most days, but I've learned to fight that with my own hobbies. I love and enjoy the writing that I do. I love and enjoy crafting and painting and decorating. I love shopping and do so whenever I can, though I'm trying to be grateful for what I already have and use what I have, instead of just accumulating unnecessary items that serve no purpose. Sometimes a hobby can be as simple as taking a long walk.

* Nature. People who talk to themselves usually make jokes about it like me. I've learned to make everything I see my friend. No one wants to acknowledge me at the bar or the restaurant? No problem. I'll just have a great conversation with the cup sitting on the table. I have no idea what's going on in the world? No problem. I'll just talk to the tree, or the clouds, or the grass, or the flowers, or the car that was abandoned. They'll tell me what's going on. They'll understand me better than the people who didn't notice me.

*God. I don't care if I'm a white sheep or a black sheep or a GREY WOLF, I still belong to God. From my birth to this day, God has never abandoned me. I'm not obedient all the time. I'm not faithful all the time. He knows each and every vice I have. He knows my strengths and my weaknesses. I don't like HIM all the time. Sometimes I can't stand what He allows from me and the rest of the world, but HE's shown me too much. I've seen too many miracles. I can't deny HIM. Like my mother. She was right 9 times out of 10, and I hated that --- until I accepted it. Yeah, she's right. Ok! Then that's me too. If you can't beat them, join them. I'm grateful for my ability to surrender.

So it's November. Are you a Scorpio? Do you have a birthday this month competing with everyone wanting to get their turkey and set the table? Well, Happy Birthday Scorpio. Thanks for what you do. Let's thank November and the Yellowstone babies for all that they do too. Thanks! I hope all the November babies enjoy their month and the rest of us remember to have a "Gratitude Attitude" this month, and throughout the year. It's a great virtue to carry in your heart.

Happy November!