Easy

Most days, gratitude is a hard won battle for me. It is often crowded out by the daily stresses of life, and I do not always see clearly that it should be as natural as breathing for me. But when you see the little truck your son was driving and your daughter was riding in upside down in a ditch, leaning drunkenly against a power pole, with a live wire resting next to it, and you hear that they walked away from the scene, you are grateful. When your daughter tells you that your son almost stepped on the wire, your weep tears of gratitude. You feel surprised that you were ever ungrateful, in fact. Why was I ever anything but thankful, you wonder. Then, you see your children. They are in the office of the school they attend part time, surrounded by friends and teachers who came outside and started praying for the people involved in the accident before they realized who it was. They are warm, talking, sore, shaken, and healthy. You teeth are chattering and you begin to shake when your friend tells you of the giant arc of sparks thrown from the wires, of the squealing of brakes and screaming of daughter. the next afternoon, as you wash your son's stainless steel water bottle, recovered from the (very much totaled) truck, you cry again as you see the enormous dent in it, the mud smeared all over its surface. My son is fine, you remember. And you promise your self that you will not wait until your children are almost killed to be grateful-grateful for every day, each moment, each thing that happens. Even the stress is a symbol of a life full and lived with joy. Thanks be to God for sparing the life of my children!