Count Your Blessings

I’m sitting here thinking I would really like to have a glass of wine to accompany my thoughts about the day that is almost over. Alas, the last of the wine went into the pasta-shrimp dish we had for dinner. What a sacrifice. Do your days start out with a blank slate and an imaginary list of all the things you would like to accomplish? That’s how I start my day—with a quick prayer and vague outline of how the day will go. That I continue to do this is pretty funny, since I have two puppies and also because nothing is certain these days.

The other thing I do happens at the end of the day when I review my day, looking for blessings. But then there is the voice of Sister Mary Sternbottom whispering, “But what did you accomplish?” If I compare the fresh, young morning exercise with the decrepitude of the dying day, there is rarely congruency.

Today started out with the usual “to do” list, but then it veered wildly. Well, actually it all started at 2:00 a.m. when Teddy started moving around in the bed. Nothing pulls you out of a deep sleep faster than a puppy stirring around on the communal bed. I leapt out of bed and turned on the light. By the time my eyes adjusted to the glare, Teddy was curled up beside John, soundly sleeping. 

Unfortunately, the damage was done. The lid on my worry box, that also has a separate compartment called the “have-to drawer,” was firmly open. The lovely thing about having antique clocks is they chime on the hour, the quarter hour, and the half hour. So if you are having a bout of insomnia, you can keep track of exactly how long you have been awake …

The first thing I stewed over was my grandson, who had an almost-positive COVID-19 test. Being experienced in epidemiology, I wondered, How can this test be almost positive? It’s like being almost pregnant. We were waiting for the results of a second test.

And then there was Teddy, who—as you know—will eat animal, vegetable, and mineral. Does that include insects? He currently was on chicken and rice, due to what my mother called “lower track distress.” This diet does not fill up an active pup who does not know he is sick. He had been giving me the stink eye all day yesterday, devouring the chicken and spreading the rice all around the kitchen. Hopefully, everything would return to normal, or I would have to call the vet. But could I get in?

Then there was the annual craft fair at our church. The proceeds go to purchase pediatric wheelchairs for needy children. I happen to be the chair of the fair (I know), which this year will be a cyber event. Now this is really a stretch for me, but I do have two excellent helpers. Still, it all falls on my shoulders.

Finally, I remembered to think about my blessings and fell sound asleep around 4:00 a.m. Why didn’t I start with the blessings?

At around 6:00 a.m., I was awakened with cramps in my left ankle and foot. In my efforts to untangle myself from the sheets, I awakened John and both the pups. Looking down, I noticed my foot was at an unnatural angle and my great toe was saluting the dawn. I hobbled to the bathroom, and suddenly the muscles relaxed—but not without a little twinge that said, “Don’t even think of getting back in that bed.”

The day had begun.

It is almost bedtime and I’m thinking about this day. Sister Mary Sternbottom insists that I list accomplishments first, but I’m finding that many of the day’s blessings and accomplishments are intertwined. I did finish a quilted, embroidered, appliquéd Christmas wall hanging that only took two years to complete (I did make other things during that time, when the mind-numbing embroidery and appliqué made my eyeballs roll back in my head). The financial issues and the cyber tasks of the craft fair have been taken over by two competent partners. My grandson’s second COVID-19 test came back negative (so much for the competence of the original lab). Teddy is back on a regular diet—no need to go to the vet. I survived another learning walk with the dogs, and I didn’t have a heart attack when Teddy took off with my pincushion and it took twenty minutes to find the needle that had been in it. I actually cooked, and the shrimp-and-pasta dinner turned out well. Did I mention I donated my glass of wine to this culinary delight? 

Oh yeah—what had I planned to do? Other than the pile of laundry the dogs are enjoying, I really don’t remember. But when my head hits the pillow tonight, I will have plenty to be grateful for.

Sweet dreams, dear friends, and don’t forget to count your blessings.