Sunday Morning Musings: Thankfulness

I have been sick this week, sick enough to have to rearrange my schedule quite a bit and basically fall behind on everything.  And you know what?  It has made me feel like this:

Grouchy! And truthfully? Rather whiney too. I have been sick quite a lot over the past year (thank you germy little kids!) and I've been miserable, but I can't even crawl into bed and wallow in my miserable-ness, I still have to take care of these demanding little urchins, um, that is, my wonderful, adorable children. And every time it takes forever to catch back up. And blah blah blah, you get the idea. So I've been sick and grouchy. And then I come across this post on gratitude by Lindsay over at Passionate Homemaking. Boo! I hate it when something points attention to the fact that I've been acting like a spoiled child!

I was particularly struck by this part:
In every situation...prayer + thanksgiving = peace. Thankfulness results in joy!
Joy, while I'm dragging myself out of bed to face a long day of coughing, aching and children?  Joy, when I'm staring longingly at that bottle of Nyquil at 10:00 in the morning?  Thankfulness in sickness, when I'd so much rather have health?
But one thing I know for sure - God does not lead me to these kind of reminders just for His own amusement.  So I try.
In this moment, I find I am so very thankful, and when I turn my head towards my blessings, they fill my vision, and sickness receeds. Such a small thing to have a virus compared to the fact that my children are growing and healthy. Such a small thing to cough all night when my bed is warm and safe. How insignificant that the house is a wreck when it keeps out the wind and snow, and contains so much more than I need to survive.  And even how wonderful that I can endure a small illness, but get to hear my daughter say over and over again, "I'm so sorry that your sick, mama," and wrap her arms around me, planting her little kisses on my cheek.
Being sick, I have allowed myself to go back to bed after taking care of Wyatt around 6:30am, and Ava typically has been the one to wake me later on.  She crawls over me (thump, squish, kick), then drags her blanket, stuffed something-or-other, and whatever other small trinket she's carrying around that week.  Then she wiggles and jabs and finally settles herself just about on top of me with her head on my pillow.  She pats my face and says, "I'm so hungry!"  So I sit up and she gathers her things and heads for the kitchen.  She turns around to be sure I'm not going to flop back on my reclaimed pillow.  "Stretch your arms," she says sweetly, and I am reminded to welcome the day, for it comes and goes whether I waste it by complaining or savor it with gratitude.

This is the day the LORD has made.
I will rejoice and be glad in it.
Psalm 118:24


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