How am I ever going to write a whole stinking post on blessings? *Picking up the husband's shoes for the umpteenth time and carrying them to the closet.*
I swear these people think I exist to be their personal maid. *Picking up dirty clothes and making the bed.*
The bathroom looks like the bottom of a birdcage. Newspaper everywhere. Seriously, who does all their reading in the bathroom? At least carry it back to the living room when you're done. *Trying to find enough counter space to plug in the flat iron and lay out all things necessary to style the hair.*
How can you make that big of a mess frying two little eggs? *Wiping down the stove, counter, toaster....and anything else within splatter range.*
The dishwasher is two stinking feet from the sink. Why does everyone pile dishes in the sink? How hard would it be to turn to the left and....oh! Looky! A dishwasher! *Loading everyone else's dishes into the dishwasher.*
On and on my complaints could go and sadly, they sometimes do. But what a difference when I look for the gifts and overlook the annoyance.
211. Those shoes and socks abandoned where they don't belong mean that we have protection for our feet as we journey through our days.
212. The dirty clothes on the floor mean we are blessed with ample clothing. Not just one set for work and one for "good," but enough for all kinds of weather and enough that we'd still have something to wear if we stopped washing clothes for a week or two.
213. The newspaper means we have freedom of speech and the right to be informed. As for flat irons and blow-dryers and gels and sprays....luxuries, all.
214. The mess on the stove means there was food to be cooked. No one woke up and faced the day hungry.
215. The dishwasher means not having to wash everything by hand. It means not having to lug buckets of water from a well and not having to heat it.
And the black mood is gone, replaced with the confession of an ungrateful heart and a realization of whom is served in the doing of these small, mundane things...and of the joy and blessings that are there if the eyes just open.
Dear God, When I am discouraged. When I feel ungrateful and the enemy is scratching at the door....remind me to count. In the counting, the looking for your hand in all things, lies the key. In the thanksgiving lies the love, or does the thanksgiving lie within the love? They are so closely tethered these two. In giving thanks, I see how clearly you love and in your love, I give thanks.