It’s almost time to put up our “Thankful Wall.”
We had company yesterday and the little girlie asked me if I had any ideas for an Autumn Art contest. I am not at all artistic, but I suddenly remembered all the “Thankful Walls” that Middle Daughter has painted over the years and that we had saved them in the closet — all rolled up together, preserved for posterity. So I fetched them out to show her. The girlie got some ideas, but I got a wonderful trip down memory lane.
Tonight, I fetched out the first one we ever did, and hung it up on the study door. It was 1994 when we first had this idea to put a piece of newsprint up on our wall and ask the people who came through the door (for whatever reason) to write something they were thankful for, and to sign their names. It has become one of our best and most favorite traditions. Most people seem glad to comply, but if it is a hardship — we let it go. In fact, the last year that Daddy was alive, he didn’t sign it. He kept thinking maybe he would “next week” and I didn’t have the heart to press him. And then, one week, we didn’t have “next week”. My entry, that year, written in the corner just before we took the “Thankful Wall” down at the beginning of January, read,
Take a look at this picture. You might be able to find your name — and if you see it or see the name of someone you love, but can’t read what is written, just say so, and I will interpret.
And should you be by our house in another few weeks,
Stop and tell us what you are thankful for and sign our