Thanks for the hard stuff, too

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Even St. Francis looks crabby.

This morning as I drank my third cup of coffee, I stared miserably out the window at day 4 of the 3rd month of mess of snow/slush/ice/yuck on my not-even-close to being plowed street, with cars parked haphazardly on the opposite side, and in particular at the big white Tahoe parked at an angle well into the street at the base of my ice-floe challenged driveway. And, what about the other moron behind him who shoveled all the snow off his car into the street. Nice. Very nice. Oh and great, daylight savings is this weekend, that means getting up in the dark again. How I hate this! When will spring come? Why do I live here instead of California? And so on for at least another ten minutes, or more. 

 

Deep sigh. I decided to say a quick prayer of gratitude. Thank you God for my sweet husband, my wonderful daughters, my healthy parents and loving siblings, my friends, my puppy, my drafty but lovely home, my neighbors, for all the places we have lived, and all the relationships we have formed, for blue sky and sunlight in my kitchen, for mountain hikes, for crossfit, for, for, for… I felt better, but a sliver of misery insisted on interrupting the flow of grateful thoughts.  I had to either end the prayer or acknowledge my bad mood and the utter grossness that awaited me outside. 

 

Thank you…for the hard stuff. Thank you…for messes, and irritations, and bad drivers, and frustrations that appear uninvited all the live-long-day. Thank you God, because after a while all these things force me to consider my response, to react slowly, thoughtfully, kindly (not always, but I’m trying. Really, I am), to try to see some beauty, some pattern, or combination of colors to transform my crabbiness into something smooth and resilient. I am grateful for that. So, Thank you, God.

 

Now, are we done with winter?

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