Gratitude I always have, faith now and then. Hope is the bridge that keeps me going.
When the leaves are scarlet and gold and the sky is blue, gratitude flows from my heart as fluently as a brook in spring. When the sky is gray and the weather chill but family and friends are gathered at my table savoring tasty food that I have been blessed to prepare, I beam like a small domesticated sun.
A feisty friend, an ideological atheist, challenges: Who are we thanking? I realize that I don’t care. I won’t be limited by theology in acknowledging my blessings. There is so much beauty and comfort in my life that I did not create. Being grateful gives me hope. Hope that I will be able to discover and acknowledge blessings even if a time comes when there is more pain and fear and less abundance than I now enjoy. Hope that even at 70, I can still learn, grow, and change. Gratitude (mixed with a bit of guilt) is the motive force for my commitment to justice, to securing for others the blessings I enjoy.