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Sunday, February 3, 2013

Counting Blessings and Misusing Prepositions

I like the way my sons are turning out. They've always been supportive of me, no matter what I'm going through. They tend to be non-judgmental of their flawed but trying mother (for example, I doubt either would bat an eye over the fact that I just ended two sentences with prepositions). Although we differ in our approaches to organized religion and our ways of expressing our faith, I see God making headway in both their lives, and it humbles me.

Lately I've been feeling a fair amount of angst about some decisions that are before me. I've been praying about them, staying in God's word, seeking Godly counsel ... still, I haven't quite made it to the peace that passes all understanding stage. I've been walking around at times deflated, discouraged, even despondent, wondering if God's sure what He's doing in my life.

In despair, I called my older son the other day for comfort. He's almost 21 and has a pretty good head on his shoulders. More to the point, he loves me, and I needed to feel loved just then. His counsel was short, sweet and sound. First, he said he trusted my judgment about whatever challenges I was facing, and indicated that he believed in me. Second, he promised to help with an upcoming party we were planning, which was making me feel even more overwhelmed (and he kept his word). As if this psychological and practical support were not enough, he wondered aloud if I had counted my blessings lately.

No need to reread that last sentence; you got it right the first time. I admit, though, I did a double take after he said it. This is a principle I've been trying to instill in my kids since they were little, but like the first time they crossed the street without holding my hand, I felt terrified they'd get it wrong and kill themselves before the lesson sank in.

It blew me away when he began ticking off a gratitude list on my behalf, as easily if he were reciting the Pledge of Allegiance for the billionth time. It sounded like he'd been noticing silver linings his whole life, and right then the clouds began to part for this (at the moment) visually challenged mother.

I went home later and hung out with my younger son. He caught a clue it had been a rough day when I announced we were getting take out for dinner. When it was time to go pick up the food, he offered to stroll up with me and get it. Since walking is one of the few exercises I don't "hate, loathe, despise and abominate,"  but one of the few he dislikes, this was an act of love. Alas, the credit card I brought to pay for our feast was the only one the restaurant didn't accept! Since I hadn't brought cash, this little error necessitated a second round trip in 20 degree winds. Ethan retraced his steps in the cold with nary a murmur (even offering to make the return trip solo so I could relax). When we finally sat down to eat, he generously suggested I pick out a show to watch while we grazed (and shared his dinner with me, 'cause let's face it, if one egg roll is good, two's gotta be better). In typical Ethan form, he even tried to chip in for the tab.

Makes it easier to count your blessings when two of them are living under your roof.

                                                       Aaron and Ethan Williams

For more like this, check out:

 Morsels for Meditation...: Baby's Breath, Maturing Marvels

Morsels for Meditation...: My Ethan