Sitting down to blog every day is similar to taking time to work on a book every day. Both involve writing. Both are for the purpose of communicating something to an audience. And both writers have days where the most important thing is to put pen to paper, or fingers to keys.
Today was largely unremarkable. I returned books, lots of books, to the library. (Oh, how I love that drive-through drop-off.) Stood in line to return an ill-advised purchase. Met a friend for coffee. Think I might have experienced a hot flash.
As with several other universal experiences, I had decided not to experience this whole hot flash thing. The other times I have politely declined to experience what so many others before me have experienced, my intention did not line up with my reality. Somehow, I have expected a pass from certain common experiences. Some aspects of parenting teens come to mind.
It is when I choose to focus on what I am grateful for that I am reminded that every day is filled with gifts of all sizes and shapes. Today, the rain misting while I put Kepler on the bus. The gift of my new office space. The blessing of a mother who senses my exhaustion and whips up a tasty dinner for my family. The blessing of my husband and children. And I am reminded once again that my story about my story is the one that makes my experience what it is. I want to be sure to have a story that includes lots and lots of gratitude.
Sometimes the act of recounting the sources of my gratitude is enough to inspire me to move toward what is right with my world.