A Little Gratitude

Many thanks to each of you that lifted my father up in prayer last week. Over the course of several days he was put through several tests which told us his heart is OK, and although his symptoms persist it appears he’s in no immediate danger.

For a little while I was unsure of my dad’s immediate future. For a few days we sat in sterile rooms, slept on uncomfortable beds and ate overpriced hospital food while we waited, imagined and wondered what was going on with him. I looked at my dad, hooked up to machines and being given nitroglycerin and wondered how this happened right in front of me. I never would have guessed he’d be in the hospital with heart trouble. He looked so vulnerable. I couldn’t help but think he might have been moments away from something tragic and I would have been left speechless, shocked and stunned.

I sit at home worrying that the meals I make are getting boring, that I’m neglecting some part of Chloe’s development, that my carpets need so badly to be steam cleaned and that I can’t find 30 minutes to do some sewing. All the while, something scary was going on with my dad’s heart. In unseen places, something wasn’t right. I could lose my touch for sewing, my creativity in cooking (OK, that’s just funny, I really don’t have any), and let my carpets go beyond repair but losing those things would be nothing like losing my father. The things that really matter to me are so easy to take for granted or to accept as commonplace. Things like good health, safety, family and faith are worth my time, my thoughts and my attention so much more than the trivial things I allow to rule me.

As I sat in that room next to my mother, watching her try to be brave, I was consumed with how blessed my life is. I forgot about the carpet, my sewing and nagging my husband and my heart was filled with gratitude. I was so thankful I was there. Although I worry more than I should and fixate on things that don’t really matter, when push comes to shove I’ll drop everything and drive 4 hours to sit with my mom in a sterile hospital room because that DOES matter. Just as I’m about to come down on myself for not spending enough time with my dad or not taking enough interest in his graduate program, I stop myself. I’m so grateful I was there, when it mattered. I love you dad.

I know my mom will read this at some point – mom, when you read this I want you to know I was really proud to be your daughter last week.

Thanks for indulging my occasional off-topic posts. This is me. The world of frugal living will continue to spin without me and I’ll pick right back up where I was.

Why I do what I do ~ I think the reason I have had so much trouble with money is because I’m fabulously wealthy in so many other areas. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.

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