Gratitude

How can I be so ungrateful for all that I have been given?

The nights may be long, and the stress hard, but what I face is nothing. Nothing.

As I finish a historical research paper on Confederate women journaling, I read this:

“Here I sit alone, rocking, rocking, rocking – with the few embers in the grate my only reflection to the thousand thoughts which crowd my poor, clouded mind – oh! for sleep, deep sleep to relieve me.”

At first my selfish mind thought, 'Oh yes, I understand. I feel that way, 'cause boy life stinks right now.'

God forbid that I let myself think such egotistical foolishness.

These women faced the breakdown of their entire lives. Their world was never the same, and they could sense it. How unimaginably terrifying. And I had the ridiculous audacity to equate a few late nights with papers with what they looked at.

I guess this means that I should just close my mouth, thank the dear Father who has blessed me far, far beyond deserving, and work to preserve what these women felt. Felt so terribly deeply.

Lord, continue to keep me thankful, and let me never forget the immense grace I am daily given. Please, please, please.