Today the clouded sky takes on a pale lavender hue with the rising sun. Stark winter branches against a leaden backdrop. My son is playing quietly in the next room, still in pajamas with tousled hair and sleepy jacks in his eyes.
It isn't often, but every now and again my morning routine sparks memories of the final days of my pregnancy almost four years ago. My health went downhill very rapidly and for some inexplicable reason showers seemed to be the only thing that would bring my tired, heavy, and aching body comfort. I would stand in the steam three or four times a day--all hours, even in the darkest moments of the night.
These memories remind me of my blessings. These memories remind me to thank God for my life--for indeed I could have lost it had we not gone to the doctor when we did. And I may never have seen my family grow, or our lives turn down different paths these last few years. These quiet moments--sometimes the only ones I get in the course of a day--remind me to give thanks for the blond boy who gets taller by the second. Who pulls all the cushions off the couch and begs for a piece of Daddy's beef jerky for dinner. I am reminded to appreciate my spouse, who never left my side in those days, who brought his scrubs home from the hospital and even now occasionally pulls them out from the dresser drawer.
Life can be stressful. It can be complicated and messy, just plain hard. For everyone--even a pastor. Even for us sometimes it can be difficult to say,"God is good!" But this morning I was reminded to say, "all the time."
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