Grateful takes work.
Grateful is good, but grateful is hard.
Jaded. That’s easy.
Frustrated. All the time.
For imperfect people.
Flowers that will soon be dead.
A life that is so unbelievably far from what I had hoped.
It’s better in a lot of ways, this life I’m leading.
Don't get me wrong.
But it doesn’t look at all like I thought it should.
My photos are blurry and grainy and poorly lit.
Not the sort of white and shiny thing it would be easy to promote on Instagram.
But does that mean it’s bad?
Does that mean my life is inferior?
'Cause it wouldn't look right in a magazine?
It doesn't look pulled from the "front page" of Pinterest?
But something to be grateful for nonetheless.
That's my life.
Lots of questions these days.
Lots of what ifs.
And why on earths.
Frustrations, little and major, come with nearly every turn these days.
I see a smiley face sticker on the coffee shop wall.
And take a second to actually savor my next sip of latte.
And I pause from those pesky voicemails I have to return, to catch my breath first.
To refocus. To re-see.
Things aren’t so bad.
In fact, life is pretty great.
Not always pretty, clean, or enviable.
But then again, what place does envy have amongst the living?
Shouldn’t we all be too busy, and too present, in our own blessed lives, to be anything but grateful for the breaths we alone get to breathe?
Those are my jumbled thoughts from the wire, words that mark a joyful reunion with the Friday free writers.
I really am thanking God for this weekend,