MILLEDGEVILLE — It is 6 a.m. Thanksgiving Day. A slight chill descends over my house, but the gas log burns brightly in the fireplace downstairs. I can see the reflection of the flames dancing off the glass panes that serve as the front wall of my home. It shouldn’t take long for the warmth to rise toward the loft where my old oak desk overlooks the lake.
I am thankful for this old oak desk. I remember precisely when it was purchased because of how I got the funds to do so. I sold the first pickup truck I ever purchased with my own money, took about half of the proceeds, and bought a piece of furniture that has served as a good friend since the mid 1990s.
A lot of tales have been spun from this old oak top in the nearly 20-year relationship we’ve had with one another. Checkbooks have been balanced, coffee cups have been spilled, and a few dings and scratches have added character. She’s been a great inspiration to me over the years. I look forward to many, many more.
The old gas log is starting to earn its keep. I’m thankful for that, too.
The coffee pot just told me that my morning jolt of caffeine is ready. I’ve poured up my first cup, it sits guard over my keyboard, and the steam wafts over the hue of the computer screen creating a scene akin to steam rising off the lake.
I’m thankful for a coffee pot that can talk — well, sort of— and the feeling I get nursing that first cup in the morning, tapping on the keys of this computer, and sharing my thoughts, dreams, and life story with others. I’m not sure I have much talent for this sort of work, but God just always seems to put the words into my head and somehow they get transferred to paper.