April 9, 2025
Of all the things
I hope for myself, going forward along this path I’m on, one thing stands out
above all the rest: I hope I never stop being grateful.
I want to keep
being grateful not just for the big things in life, but for the little things. Actually,
I want to remain grateful mostly for the little things. Because you see,
I have discovered that if I am grateful for the small blessings in life, then I
will never cease to be grateful for the big ones.
Blessings can
indeed be defined, but that definition is subjective. Each of us has our own
preferences, our own lived experiences, and our own definitions of what a
blessing is.
Among my most
cherished blessings: time spent with my loved ones, family and friends;
climbing into my well-made bed each night (and oh how I am regretful on those
few days when I don’t make that bed in the morning); a dinner I prepared that
turns out really well; quiet time spent in a comfy chair with a good book when
there is nothing more pressing to be done than to just relax and read.
Any turn of good
luck qualifies as a blessing, as does any pleasant surprise that comes along.
That’s a bit subjective, I know. Just as I also know that y’all can take that
to mean whatever you think fits for yourself.
I’m grateful for
those rare days when I open my front door and inhale wonderful, clean smelling,
uplifting fresh air. I’m grateful for well written books, well crafted
movies, and songs that fill the heart to overflowing. I’m grateful every time I
go to the grocery store and find their electric cart available for me to use.
I’m grateful,
equally, for a beautiful sunny day or a dark, dramatic storm. I’m grateful when
there is an orange left in the basket for me to enjoy, and for a left-over roast
beef sandwich made on wonderfully fresh bread. Yum, yum.
And I’m very
grateful for gratitude itself.
Living my life
with that quality means that there are few times when I am disappointed or
consumed with anxiety. There are very few
times when I don’t step forward in the morning anticipating a small blessing of
one sort or another.
Do I get sad? Oh
yes, sometimes. I still have days where I grieve for my late son, as well as
others who are no longer here. But you see, I consider grief a blessing.
Because if I hadn’t loved someone in the first place, I could not grieve them
when they’re gone. I’m sad when I hear of others suffering, especially if those
others are children.
When I was much younger,
a twenty-something mother with a difficult marriage, three children and very
spare means—I used to hold close my disappointments in life, the times others
had wronged me, or when I had perceived them to have done so. I readily saw all
those people who were better off than I was, people who appeared to be so much
more deserving of everything. People who seemed to be thriving when I felt as if I couldn’t
catch a break.
Thankfully, my faith
in God helped me to leave that mindset behind. But I remember it and how it
felt (the memory is a blessing) and I can tell you that to be the way I used to
be feels horrible. There’s no happiness, no joy, that cannot be blotted
out by that kind of negative, self-defeating, self-sabotaging misery.
To feel that way
feels worse inside than any genuine difficult challenge I will face in life could
ever inspire on its own.
So, one of my
constant prayers for myself each night before I drift off to sleep, is to pray
that I remain grateful, and never turn into a cynical, grouchy and unhappy
person.
And I remain steadfast
in my faith that this prayer will be granted.
Love,
Morgan
http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury
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