Thank You Jesus for My Spam Box and Other Seemingly Small Things

Lately my spam box has been overrun with promises of real 'fake' Rolex watches, and other brands. I'm so grateful for my spam box, (even if something important occasionally drifts in there) 1. I cannot afford a Rolex watch. 2. If I could afford a Rolex watch I wouldn't buy one. I haven't worn a watch since I discovered my cell phone showed the time and date. This was about the same time my wanton ways delighted me in receiving many a tennis bracelet from potential suitors. 3. I'm still wearing those tennis bracelets. 4. I'm a minimalist at heart. I have something with me all the time that tells me the time and date. Why be redundant?

You won't know this until you've had a couple of children, and hit the new 30's which is actually the new 40's now; but , believe me when the time comes you WILL thank God, right their from your throne to His, that you have had a good BM. Nothing in this world is better than being regular. I'm sure He finds this both humorous and charitable. Eat your Cheerios it will help.

Just about the time, you truly learn that there's a place for everything and everything should be in its place, you start to go blind. This is a good thing because you can at least grope in the right direction. Now if I could just learn that every time my glasses are not on my night stand- I should check the top of my head first without going on a blind search through all the possible places I could have left them, including the freezer (for I sometimes have small lapses in memory), my life would be in order.

I thank God that I am not rich; but instead a poor writer. At the same time I am grateful to have a social circle that includes peoples of great privilege. For while they visit places I may never see for myself, the Sistine Chapel, the Great Wall of China, Galapagos Islands, Fiji and the Birth place of Christ- I can be content with watching a poppy unfurl in my backyard, imagining the not so distant traffic from my cottage becoming as waves that once crashed in a long ago dwelling. It stirs my imagination and memory so that I can smell the sea spray, the sound of seals barking and the clanging of buoys in a stirred up tide. And then I realize, how truly lucky I am. When I sit down to a humble meal of homemade biscuits with jam, I think about how hard these things were to come by for myself, but how much of a luxury they were during the Holocaust- and my prayers become as sweet as the jam itself, for I know how terribly lucky I am.

I can Thank God when I look back on my life and my silly frivolities. I guess this is the best part. I am nothing like I was, once upon a time, I am better for it. There is no teenage temper tantrum that my up-do did not turn out right for a big night out; I'm just glad I have some hair on my head. No mourning over men that now I find weren't worth mourning about to begin with; and even if they were, so be it- my purpose was not to be their love slave but something far greater; a poor poetess living in a humble abode, enjoying her family, enjoying her friends, enjoying a relationship with Jesus.

If I should finish a book (EVER), I have at least six in the making, I will be happy whether they are published or not, whether I can even convince my best friend to read it. Why? Because I have desire and purpose, while so many in the world have eyes that have grown dark with despair, wasting away their precious hours, that turn to months, and then decades because they lack or have lost all that may be worth doing to them; this happens to the rich and poor alike. Though my very skin and bones betray me, and pain daunts me when I dress. I am, resilient, passionate, compassionate, and knowing that I am human, I curse the floor I can't get up from- when I'm weak, but I get up. And I write. For today it is my calling. Thank you Jesus, that today I am not constipated in mind or in bowels. Tomorrow may come and I know that I could be less fortunate, but blessed be this day- this glorious day- that we share. Now the question is will I be able to get out of this chair?