gratitude

An Attitude of Gratitude and the Miracle of the Chocolate Milk

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Something about me changed when I started making an effort to be more grateful. It didn’t happen overnight. It happened over the course of years. But it started with a conscious effort to name the many things I’m grateful for.

We have a habit of listing the things we are grateful for each day during bedtime prayers with our children. There’s a round of thanking Jesus by each of us. One kid repeats a boilerplate list of family members’ name and animals, specifically puppies. One is grateful for “getting through the day.” Another makes an exhaustive list of every detail (and is sometimes encouraged to take some of that list to private prayer). One takes it as an occasional opportunity to grumble–but, hey, we’re to be grateful for those things too, according to Saint Paul.

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Slowly Learning to Accept Little Blessings

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For the past several weeks, despite soaring, unseasonable temperatures, it seems that everybody is sick. Stomach bugs, flu, bacterial infections, etc. Each time I hear or read someone bemoan the sickness in their home or complain of this winter as the worst ever for illness, I internally cringe. Because our family has enjoyed what is probably our healthiest winter ever. (Don’t get me wrong, there’s been migraines and sinus headaches, sniffles and coughs, an injured knee, recovery from oral surgery, and an epic and ongoing battle with warts. But all in all, super healthy.)

Now, I don’t consider myself a superstitious person, but I’m summoning all sorts of courage to type this. It feels like an invitation for a variety of degenerating, lingering, maleficent ailments to descend upon our home and ravage our bodies.

Why can’t I simply enjoy this unexpected winter free from the minor suffering sickness brings? Why do I sit and wait with worry for the proverbial shoe to drop?

Trusting God Continue reading →

In the Blink of An Eye

/ CAstfalk / 8 Comments

I had just (narrowly) survived what I described to my husband as the most infuriating grocery shopping trip of my life. My three- and four-year-olds touched at least 3,567,492 items in the supermarket. Plastic-wrapped mushrooms were poked, signage was damaged, candy bars were fondled, and bags of rice were shaken. To the other shoppers, I must’ve appeared as a harried harpy incessantly reeling my little monkeys in. “Get down.” “Don’t touch.” “Get off.” “Come back.”

Groceries and children safely stowed in the minivan, we set off for home. The one-hit-wonders station played “Happy Days,” and I bopped along to the music. (Did you know it was a full song and not just the musical accompaniment to the TV show’s title sequence? Me either.)

Then there was the thud to the right front fender. I glimpsed a mottled brown creature being flung to the side of the road. Ugh. A groundhog? A rabbit? Uncertain, I found a place to turn around and doubled back. Though I’m not a hundred percent certain, I believe I hit a long-haired cat. Continue reading →

The Witching Hour: When It All Hits the Fan

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When I say, “the witching hour,” I’m not talking about some spooky hour in the inky blackness when supernatural creatures roam the earth making the time ripe for witchery. I’m referring to the common parlance of parents of young children who are all too familiar with the early evening fussiness of babies.ClockEarly evening, you may know, generally coincides with adults returning home from work, kids heading to and from after-school activities, and preparing and eating dinner. Continue reading →