Grumbled Gratitude

I was up super early this morning and worked my full shift, only to have to go back to work a few hours later when a pipe went bad and there was water everywhere. I ended up crawling under cabinets in a dress to do some minor plumbing. And so, God, I am thankful for the ability to work, the assurance of a paycheck, and the basic knowledge needed to fix leaky pipes.

I was supposed to have a relaxing evening of hockey and my big comfy chair, but instead, I’ve gotten fifteen phone calls from work because the closer has never closed before. She won’t call the other manager for fear of being insulted or belittled. And so I am thankful for the gentleness of spirit that you give me with her, the chance to be her unofficial pastor, and the kindness with which she views me.

I’ve made terrible choices about food this weekend and I have a huge arsenal, fully stocked with verbal bullets to aim at myself for every bite I took – even the healthy ones. Help me to be thankful, God, for the privilege of having a choice, and help me to be kind to myself.

Every song on the radio, every word of overheard conversation, every time my mind has wandered – even my dreams – all circle the same struggle these last 36 hours and it seems like the universe is throwing it in my face. Heaps of thanks for Mary, who has the spiritual gifts of listening and prayer, and who doesn’t seem to judge me.

I am going bonkers with the need to help my two best friends and it kills me that I cannot be there to help, even though I wouldn’t know what to do when I got there. They are just too far away, and a thousand miles apart, and it kills me. Kills me. But in your infinite wisdom, you placed us in a time of cell phones and Messenger apps, and so I thank you for the all-meaning, sometimes meaningless conversations we have, the ones that save me, in spite of geography.

I am drowning in questions and am frequently just seconds away from a temper tantrum about the things I want that I do not currently have. It seems like the more I try to figure them out, the more confused I get. Hesitantly, I say thanks for the time to wait. The time to heal. The knowledge that I am not supposed to know everything, cannot know everything, and really don’t want to spoil the surprise.

I have quite a lot to be thankful for. More than I could list. Help me, God, to regain a spirit of gratitude.



About BearsGrl8

I'm a geek, a "Supernatural" fangirl, a progressive, an introverted loud-mouth, a damn fine cook, a Bears fan, a Blackhawks fan, and a fantastic aunt.

Posted on April 19, 2015, in Growing Up, On Being a Woman and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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