I read your stories of lost siblings and babies taken too soon and your thankfulness in defiance of griping, and I am ashamed. My fusses are because of homesickness, because of hot weather and bugs. I spent the first four years of my marriage fussing because I was the breadwinner, not the homemaker, and NOW I AM the homemaker and I still find threads to pick and worry at. So. You know what? I’m thankful that I have the luxury of dealing with small problems. Small ones. Not cancer, or widowhood, or how to feed my sons. Not living in the middle of war. I’m thankful that my problems are small enough to vanish from my field of vision when I turn my back on them and choose instead to give thanks. They’re not peeking around my side, waving and drawing attention. They’re small. Small enough to be thrown into the air if my blessings jump onto the other end of the see-saw.
By: Paige Jackson