Of Gratitude and The Day God Taught Me How to Count

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It’s been a busy rainy November. I’ve managed to divide my days between work, projects, teaching my Saturday morning art class (a story for another day) and basically trying to keep afloat. I finally got a one week off and I’ve been waking up to beautiful rainy mornings, like today. It hasn’t stopped raining since I woke up. I feel the world inside me is at rest. I’m not rushing through breakfast, forgetting lunch or sleeping through dinner. I’m really enjoying this extra time, breathing easy, but most importantly reflecting on the goodness of November before it takes the next bus out of town.

One of the things I’ve been reflecting on is something I saw a week ago; Monday morning, rain pouring, stuck in a jam and getting late for work. I needed some distraction from the mundane thoughts that consumed me that morning; I remember looking through the bus window; past the hooting cars to the city council benches across the road. I love city council benches, for the very reason that many times they have been a pit stop offering me a break from the busy life. But that early morning it was the man sleeping on the bench; his comfort, his home which caught my attention and heart. I felt all sorts of emotion, the emotions I feel when I pass by the blind man near Ambassador singing old hymns as people drop coins in his collection cup. The same emotions I feel in the evenings rushing home when I see the man without limbs who sits on the pavement right next to my street book stand, with his weight scale. I always find him laughing or smiling with a customer.

On normal days I pass these people in a hurry to reach my destination with no thought of their circumstances. But the sight of that man turning and twisting on that bench, being rained on, forced me look beyond myself and realize I had been taking a lot of things in my life for granted. A place deep inside me reminded me of the many times I rushed out of the house without even whispering a prayer of thanksgiving to God for the very breathe of life, times I ate food without being grateful I could afford to take three meals in a day or the fact that I had a place to call home.

As the bus drove off, a song from my childhood came to mind.

“Count your blessings name them one by one, count your blessings see what God, count your blessings, name them one by one and it will surprise you what the Lord has done.”

Its amazing how God used the man sleeping on the bench that rainy Monday morning to remind me of the blessings in life, in my life. He taught me how to count and not with sticks like they did in nursery school but He used a man, sleeping on a wet city council bench, with his back turned to the cars in traffic. And now i count the blessings; the blessing of waking up to see a new day, of being able to walk and talk, hear, see, jump, sit and breathe. Blessings. I’m not entitled to these things, they may seem little and insignificant but it would be a totally different story if one day I woke up not being able to breathe, see or walk.

As I write this I’m thinking about God; His goodness and mercies over my life in November and the months before. If I haven’t said it today, I will say it now, Thank you Lord for the gift of life, for the air that I breathe. Thank you for sight. Thank you for the clothes on my back and shoes on my feet. Thank you for the many times I walk out of the door in the morning and come back safely at night. Thank you that I haven’t seen a doctor in a while. Thank you for more than I could ever list down and Lord if I ever forget to say thank you, nudge me, beat me upside my head, keep giving me refresher lessons on how to count my blessings. Keep reminding me that it’s not by my own strength that I’m alive but by Your Grace.