Thursday, August 13, 2009

Counting My Blessings

After moving to Colorado, I realized that if I got up before daybreak and stood on the deck as the stars disappeared, just counting my blessings one by one, I would still be there running through my list when the sun set. Day by day, life has just gotten better for two of us in our small corner of this paradise on Earth.

This morning I woke up early again, filled with the realization that today we'll put the suitcases I've so carefully filled into the Tahoe and take off for Aurora, a suburb of Denver, to spend the afternoon and evening with Dick and Carol, friends we see far too little of, even though they live only an hour away. They're putting us up for the night, and will then drive us to the airport for our trip to The Netherlands tomorrow morning.

As I thought about the trip, an old Bing Crosby song from the 40s started running through my head. My dad used to sing it. What didn't he sing? He was such a fine guitarist and had a great voice. His music is one of my finer childhood memories. Anyway, the song goes like this:

Counting My Blessings

When I'm worried and I can't sleep,
I count my blessings instead of sheep
And I fall asleep counting my blessings.
When my bankroll is getting small
I think of when I had none at all,
And I fall asleep counting my blessings.

I think about a nursery and I picture curly heads,
And one by one I count them as they slumber in their beds,
And I fall asleep counting my blessings.
If you're worried and you can't sleep
Just count your blessings instead of sheep
And you'll fall asleep counting your blessings.


So I stood on the deck and thought of my sons, so grown and good, such a joy to me—blessings, though scattered and not seen nearly enough. We had such a good visit when Tighe was here last month. Jeremy's getting married on December 27th, so I'll have Elisha for a second daughter. Blessings. Ben and Ruth have our two granddaughters, Ashley (2 1/2) and Kate (1 on the day we land) the furthest away of all, but we climb aboard a plane to see them tomorrow. Blessings.

We leave behind a home we love, neighbors who will look after our place, friends who will pick us up at the airport when we return and keep us overnight so we don't drive home jet lagged. More blessings.

We're bringing along all our Christmas presents, so I won't have to pay postage on them, and isn't that going to be a blessing to our budget in December? My sister Ellen is coming for a week-long visit just seven days after we return home, and there's another one.

I could continue. It would be so easy, because that's pretty much the life we live. It's not all sunshine and roses, of course, but it's the best life I've ever lived, and there's no one I've ever met I'd trade with. There's nowhere else I've ever seen that I'd rather live. Nobody else I'd rather be—and it took me a long time to get there, I promise. Besides, sunshine and roses are overrated. I'll take the thunderstorms and wildflowers... and the the wild adventures. And here comes a big one.

Here we come, Kids!

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