Sometimes I thank God

but never enough.  At the moment, I find myself walking a shaky tight-rope of optimism – it would only take a second of introspection for me to fall into self-pity.  That is a terrible place to be, and very hard to get out of.  The constant discipline of thinking about others and collecting positive thoughts is hard, if you stop and think about it.

But I have such a wonderful mercy, and that’s my family.  On Saturday, I overdid it in the garden, so much so that I found myself standing at the sitting room door, a cup of tea in my hand, and the chair a world away.  I told my kids that I couldn’t walk, and instantly Samuel was on his feet, taking my tea, and making sure I was OK.  Yesterday, Ryan did all the things outside that I have been looking at, thinking I couldn’t do them.  Now, if those two events among many don’t inspire thankfulness, I don’t know what will.

All of a sudden, I wasn’t thinking about my own inability to do things, I was looking at the kindness of those who could do them for me.

For that reason, it must be always I thank God.

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