Thanksgiving

When we moved back to Lafayette, almost 5½ years ago, I looked out our bedroom window and saw a traffic light. I don’t know exactly why, but that traffic light was very comforting to me. I suppose it stood as a constant, my connection to the world. Even though it was off in the distance, it stood as a reminder that even in the midst of the cornfields, we were not in the middle of nowhere; we were on the edge of somewhere. I looked out at it, almost every night, as it changed from green to amber to red and back. It was my traffic light, and I loved it.

Since that time, a lot has changed, around here. One of the streets that intersects at that light has been widened and combined with another street, necessitating a new and larger-sounding name. The other street has undergone significant construction, including a four-lane bridge over the railroad tracks where we used to have to wait for trains to pass. A factory has gone up on the corner of the two; a warehouse sits next to it; a third large building is now under construction. Pretty soon, the entire stretch will be commercially developed. A bit closer to home, the area that previously consisted of a cornfield and some wetlands is now our children’s elementary school, our new church building, and a still–under-construction residential neighborhood. All this happened in just 5½ short years.

Yet despite all this, my traffic light is still there, still constant. Despite the construction, despite the manufacturing, despite the new schools and churches and homes, despite the wider roads and bridges and even another traffic light that has since been obscured by the new construction, my light is still visible. It still shines every single night, right out my bedroom window, changing from green to amber to red and back. It’s comforting, that continued consistency, and for this I am thankful.

In short, I thank God for small blessings.