That’s the name of the song I sang at a Thanksgiving service last night with my husband. I have a music degree, but he’s the accomplished musician with the creamy full baritone voice that makes people swoon (he hates it when I say things like that, especially in print).

And I’m thankful.

Thankful that I get to sing with him. Thankful to have him in my life.

And after this year, thankful that we’re able to weather storms, and not only weather them, but turn them into something new. New life. New love.


That’s what I am when I think of my family.

One almost 17-year-old birth son who is so much like those parents that we feel sorry for him and beam with pride at the same time. He, fortunately is now finding his tribe, at an earlier age than his parents did.


Thankful for our Haitian-born younger kiddos. Our daughter Sandra (15) and son Jean (almost 12) bring us joy, strengthen our character, and teach us so much about life that they have changed who we are. And we thought it was about us helping to mold their lives. Any parent knows what I’m saying here, and those of you with older adopted children understand this on another level as well.

Jean is our joy boy.

Sandra is our drama diva.

Kaj is our musician.

Karl and I hold each other tightly, practice being open and honest, and apologize a lot.

We wish you all a Thanksgiving of giving thanks. A year and a life of giving thanks.

Of saying it out loud. Of shouting it if you feel like it, or even if you don’t.

Do it now.

Say thanks. Tell them. Call them. Hold them tight.

Share it here.

With gratitude for all I have…