Once again, I’m settled in my corner at my desk with my laptop open, my books and papers spread before me, and already working through my second cup of coffee. One daughter is delivered to her classroom for an early day on campus (charter school/home school arrangement for those of you who don’t know), and the other is still sleeping. My loyal little dog is curled up at my feet, buried in a queen-sized bedspread that we lovingly call “Franken-blanket,” due to all the stitching and repairs that I made on it before we eventually passed it on to the dog. It’s his safe place: close to me, cuddled up in fluff. Permanent Roommate just texted from work to wish me a better day than yesterday (when I spent close to 3 hours working on electronic problems, talking with tech support, and taking two steps back for every one forward). And it’s raining outside. When you live in the desert, every drop is a call for celebration.
(I think that might be a metaphoric statement pertaining to my inner soul as much as my outer environment.)
In the silence of my house, I contemplate my life.
Yesterday was a rough one. I already mentioned my computer issues. Then there was an errand that should have taken 15 minutes and took more than twice that. Laundry and housecleaning day had come around again; it has this annoying cycle of doing that every week. And my younger daughter is coming down with the head cold. I’ve been coming up short with ideas to write about, feeling that nagging lack, hearing that voice that says “You’re not a writer.” And… I could go on. Every single one of us struggles with things in life that hurt, that set us back, and sometimes even devastate us. We all have hard things to deal with.
It’s tempting to hold up my hard things in life and compare them to others. Sometimes I feel vindicated: Look! This is a really tough thing to deal with, and no one I know is having to fight so hard just to make it work!
However, most times, when I look up from my own small world and around at others, I am humbled and reminded of my so many, many blessings. So many indescribable moments of happiness, joy, provision, hope. There is a lot of hurt on this planet and many who have it worse off than I do. In spite of electronics that don’t turn on like they should and burned toast and having to get up earlier than I wanted, I have a family who supports me, loves me, and cheers me on. I have a little black dog who adores me. I have a warm house in which to sit and watch the life-restoring rain outside my windows. I have food and clothes and friends and freedom. I am blessed. Life is so good.
So while I’ve spent a lot of time this past week, casting about for new blog topics and reading and searching for inspiration and wondering what I’ll write about next, in the quiet time this morning, it occurred to me that there doesn’t need to be a big occasion or a profound revelation to take a few minutes to be thankful.
After a day like yesterday, I have a new chance to start over. Today can be different and, thank God we all get the opportunity to reset every 24 hours, taking another run at this extreme life we’ve each been given. Rather than putting off my writing because I can’t think of anything grand to write about, I’m choosing to write about the small stuff, the little things, like being loved, like having enough, like being enough, like basking in a life that, in spite of hard things, is still so good.
Maybe those aren’t the little things at all, but rather the most important things.