Gratitude: The Language Of The Heart

Could not shake off today's homily. It really hit home for me. There are times I do rant, complain, and say this of one person, laugh at another's humiliation, sneer at those who do not agree with me (nostrils flared), and make fun of someone's smell. To be undeserving of what I have today, really, comes in many forms. The past week was so challenging for me both physically and mentally, it brought out the best and the worst of me. Then we celebrated my daughter's birthday the best way we could afford yesterday. I was all over the place that night: I was agitated that the husband came home late and we had to pick up the cake; impatient with my son that he was not excited about the video a kind friend spared time for (my son's laptop was on low battery, of course he had to charge it first, in the restaurant); the soup was getting cold and my Ana's lalove was still driving his way over. 

But then again, when my son said grace, everyone and everything all set, I breathed deeply, closed my eyes and said thank you, to Him up there for all that I had. I glanced at my son so eloquently put his unedited prayer, at my sister beside me calm & collected once again after a stormy year or two, my nephew and niece who I do not see as often anymore yet they still radiantly flashed their smiles at me when they saw me arriving; beside them, the husband who behaves more like a father to his kids now more than ever, my daughter's friends who came all the way from work in Manila, her lalove who regained his footing in my Ana's life. My friend for life, Maan, walked in late and was introduced by my daughter as her 'second mom' and could not get over how adorable Aidan, my son, has become at sixteen. 

So what have I really done to deserve all these? I always say, I strive to be a better person each day, which is becoming more difficult with my age (the menopause mood swings seem to stretch further to the witch side of it rather than the bitch, those are your only two choices with me) and the stuff happening all around me I have no control of. Why can't I just freaking say 'thank you' for a life handed me? Because this life? Goodness, I have been blessed. I continue to be, day by day that I rant, and complain and witch around. 

I am not self-flagellating again, mind you. I guess nearing fifty makes a woman overthink. I told one of my professors last week, 'it is a curse at times that I am able to think deep thoughts', with which she so swiftly agreed over soup at lunch. The curse I  call is a gift, I recognize that now. And it has enabled me to manuever through this road's holes and bumps, rejoice in the little things, and surface this gratitude in  my heart.