For one month, for the past 2 years, I post what I'm thankful for each day in November.  It is mostly as a reminder to me that no matter what is going on in my life, there is always reason for thanks.Example how I try to remember to give thanks.19 years ago, I was with my Dad when he was told he had Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma.   Golfing 99 holes in a weekend had left him with pain in his shoulder that wouldn't go away.  Several months later, we learned not only was it not a torn rotator cuff, but rather it was cancer.  And it was stage IV.When the doctor was talking to us, I heard him but in a very "Peanuts" episode kind of way. Like Charlie Brown's teacher, his words sounded like "blah, blah, blah, blah, blah..." after the words "Non Hodgkin's Lymphoma is a form of blood cancer." Memory has a way of masking painful details in experiences, for I can no longer remember who asked what it was, or what the next step was for him.  What I remember was saying the rosary in the lobby (the doctor is muslim, so I felt like I was doing something wrong & disrespectful, but compelled to do anyway.  Catholic guilt never far away.) And I remember being told there is no cure.  No cure.  Nothing else the doctor said mattered.  He had just told us my Dad's cancer had no cure.I don't remember leaving the office- I don't remember crying, though I'm sure I did...but I remember a thousand other mundane details along my Dad's nearly 20 year journey with cancer...giving me and my family endless reasons to be thankful.His journey included a large medical team, many-many tests, more chemotherapy than we can probably even name now, radiation, monoclonal antibody treatments, and 2 bone marrow transplants that for a period of time left my Dad with little to no immune system.But his journey also included:Having a contest between my new-born son (Jacob- now 14 years old) and my Dad to see who would grow his hair faster.  My Dad won.  Jacob was bald well over a year.  Now he has more hair than our entire family combined.Being surrounded by a room full of 20+ people as my Dad prepared for his second transplant (a hospital record I think to this day) from an unrelated donor (now known as Tracy to our family).  The love and support that surrounded my Dad made me keenly aware that my Dad's cancer was greater than my own grief and worry.  My Dad is really an amazing man, beloved by all who have ever met him, and I get to call him Dad.  How thankful am I for that gift!Watching Dr. Uberti drop the stem cell bags and listening to the collective Gasp! in the room.  It was terrifying at the time, though harmless.  And no precious cells spilled out, but it continues to be the source of a funny memory for us, especially when we can razz Dr. Uberti about it.Developing a love for the humor in Christmas Vacation.  When we felt like crying, or my Dad couldn't concentrate on much of anything (a secret gift of chemo), we'd put that on and watch my Dad laugh out loud as if he'd never seen the movie.  Over and over.  Still funny today.  Nothing says the holidays quite like "the shitter's full".....Learning who really wants to hear how you're doing, and who only wants to hear "we're ok", in life.  Painful but important lesson to learn.  Some people are just friends when its easy, and some rise to the occasion.  To those who moved mountains to help our family, words will never be enough to show our gratitude.  In the long run, I'd rather concentrate my energy on those who were, then those who weren't there.Stem cells, after they've been frozen and are being prepared for the recipient, smell like garlicy tomato soup.  The entire room smelled like it when my Dad received his transplant.  Anything tomato based was not in my Dad's "I gotta eat that" list for a very long time.  Chemo side effects do have a very long memory.While I would never say I'm thankful for my Dad getting cancer, I am thankful for the lessons learned during the journey.  Quote thought for today.....reads something like "it isn't what happens in our life that is important, but what we choose to do about it."My Dad chose to approach his cancer diagnosis and treatment like he does everything in life:  with grace, faith, humor, trust, and surrounded by family and friends who love him dearly.  The lessons learned from his nearly 20 year journey give me endless reasons to be thankful.Saturday, we will make our yearly visit to Frankenmuth.  Non-Michigan people may not know where or more specifically "what" Frankenmuth is.  If you live in Michigan, however, the mere mention of the word amasses collective thoughts of over-priced/marginally tasty family chicken dinners.  But to my Dad, and our family (and to many, many others in the state), it's tradition.  It's what he fought to be able to have all those months in the hospital! Traditions.So, we will get in our family truckster, Frankenmuth flag hanging out the window, take the necessary cheesie photos outside of Bronners (Christmas 362 days a year.  Closed only Christmas, New Year's and Easter), purchase unnecessary yet critically important overly priced Christmas ornaments, eat until we can barely move, drink wonderfully delicious German beer (yes, the beer is fantastic!), and toast to being blessed enough to have a million reasons to be thankful.Peace Everyone...and Happy beginning of Thanksgiving month.....