Today I am grateful for:
1. The colourful hat I have on my head. It was left here by my third daughter, who had borrowed it from my first daughter. My first daughter is in long-term rehab and I miss her. Wearing her hat warms my head and my heart with thoughts of her.
2. Tears that are flowing from my eyes while I write, to help wash out a smidgen of the pain I have been enduring of late.
3. Having heard from a friend with whom I had once thought I had lost touch forever, but from whom I now occasionally hear, and he even subscribed to my blog. (Hola, Señor Heelez).
4. The sip of Zevia ginger rootbeer that was just brought to me by my eight-year-old son. He said, “Here’s some fresh Zevia that I just opened. It’s fresh.”
5. The smell of lentils and barley cooking in the kitchen, to which I am about to add carrots, onions, garlic, celery, and chopped ham.
And an extra mention of gratitutde to the blogger at Inspirationenergy, who inadvertently prompted me to write this — Inspirationenergy’s Gratitude Page.
For more gratitutdes, check out: my Gratitudes category.
Today I am grateful for:
1. The dryer in my laundry room, which not only dries our laundry, but today it performed the job of masking the sobs that wrenched from my beaten down heart so the rest of my family didn’t have to hear me cry.
2. Long sleeves on my shirts to wipe my tears.
3. Supportive friends in the groups for highly sensitive people where I find a bit of solace.
4. This blog, where I can let a little bit of my pain bleed out.
5. My faith that heaven is my final destination.
Come, Lord Jesus. Quickly. Please.
Today I’m grateful for… wait… just a sec… I’ll think of something…. man, this isn’t always easy.
1. I do have a roof over my head.
2. The snow is starting to melt here in my beautiful part of British Columbia.
3. Black snow on the side of the highway, in all its ugly glory, means spring is on the way.
4. My long camouflage skirt from the thrift store.
5. I have edible food in my kitchen.
I really do have a lot more than my tired eyes are willing to see. Thank You, Lord, for making a way.
A couple hours from home, January 11, 2011. Our roads are melted a lot more now.
So tired, as always with this adrenal burnout, I had to go to the couch and crash this afternoon.
I fell asleep to the sound of my eighteen-year-old daughter folding towels and sheets on the floor nearby.
I woke up twenty minutes later to see neatly folded piles of clean laundry in baskets by the couch.
I nearly cried with gratefulness.
She seldom does such things.
As grateful as I am for the good little things in my life, so oppositely overwhelmed am I by the numerous bad little things.
Too many little bad things piled up together look like a big bad thing.
In the face of the mountain of bad things, the good things look so awesomely wonderful.
Although probably not what it is intended to mean, I suddenly think of Newton’s law of motion: “For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.”