As I carried a cup of tea from the kitchen to my digital piano, gentle rays of sunset landed on my hymnal, beckoning me to take this photo. It seems to me that such moments are a fleeting taste of heaven, where the undying light of our Lord Jesus will illuminate all as we sing His praises so lovingly.
The first time I heard this song was on a warm summer’s evening here in our little cowboy town in BC, in a huge tent, played on acoustic guitar by a guy named Cam who was visiting from another city. Others too, cracked out their guitars and jammed. Anyone who knew the words sang along beautifully and with heart.
That was the church fellowship that I used to feel was like family.
Most of those people eventually turned their backs on me when I left the abusive ex, because of their misconceptions and misguided ideas, but God never will. He knows the whole story.
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’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.
After watching this video, the coolness factor of the cello went up a few notches in my eyes.
Makes me want to learn to play one.
The disco scene around 1:50, where the cello was wearing a huge ‘fro wig, had me giggling.
- The sun is shining.
- My two youngest kids are out at a children’s program with our behavior interventionist, where they are having fun, burning off energy, and I get a bit of quiet time to work.
- I have an excellent friend in Toronto with whom I have been having good conversation, and he is truly like a brother to me. He’s one of the few in-person friends I have (he used to live in BC, and we have been to each other’s homes) who has stuck with me through thick and thin. Bro, if you’re reading this, you already know how grateful I am for you, but here you can see it again. (And if anyone else is reading this, please don’t get the wrong impression. This is truly a brother-sister kind of friendship and he also knows my husband. I could write a whole blog entry on how much I thank God for this friend, and maybe I will someday.)
- The microwave oven we ordered to replace the one that blew up last week is waiting to be picked up at the Sears pickup store.
- My oldest daughter, who is in long-term rehab, is finally allowed to receive and write letters. I am doing the Snoopy dance on the inside, even though I am still exhausted from adrenal burnout.
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.”