I am sitting in my sunny kitchen, looking out the window, watching my children as they run around on their strong sturdy little legs, “Tag! You’re it!” Their voices float back through the warm afternoon.
For the moment, I’m not afraid that they’ll be kidnapped, or run over, or shot in a drive-by shooting. I’m not scared that they may have some debilitating disease yet to be discovered. I don’t worry that missiles may be dropped on our yard or that a terrorist may set off a bomb down the street. My children are safe. They are happy playing tag, eating Popsicles in their swimsuits, yelling back and forth at their cousins who have come over to play. They are stomping in puddles, drinking from the hose, squishing their toes in the mud.
They are experts in the field of enjoying simple pleasures.
I think to myself how often I take these little things for granted. Every day I can hear the birds singing. Every day I can hear my little girl calling “Ready, set, go!” I can hug my family. I can call my friend just to say "hi."
Not everyone can.
I look out at the blue sky, I see the dandelion fluff floating through the air, my little girl's chubby cheeks, her brilliant smile. I snuggle my baby boy closer to my heart, smelling the sweet baby smell of his hair.
Not everyone can do that.
Too often, I forget to "stop and smell the roses." Too often, I forget that each moment is a gift. I am guilty of feeling that I deserve these things. I feel entitled.
I am not.
This week I got terrible news from a friend who is just my age. She was just diagnosed with a terrifying medical condition; she has a little girl the same age as my Adelaide. This week my father-in-law had a stroke, which could’ve easily been fatal.
Life is fragile. In the blink of an eye, all that we know and love can change.
We aren’t guaranteed one more day.
Healthy legs to run and play. Healthy arms for reaching to the sky, for reaching to hug someone we love. Healthy eyes to see, healthy ears to hear. A safe yard to play in, a family to love and be loved by. A police force to keep the peace. A trash collector to haul away the garbage so my yard is clean. A husband who can pay the bills so we can live here. A country where I am free to raise my kids the way I see fit, to worship God the way I choose. A blessed life.
I guess I had somehow forgotten, but these recent events have helped me remember. Now I remember:
I am thankful.
-From my May 28th article for www.mentorpatch.com
