I was on a bus the other day from Boston to New York, and it was an epic ride. We had four stops for technical difficulty, inched through two backed-up-for-miles traffic jams, and then there was a thunderstorm that caused flash flooding. By the time I finally arrived home I never wanted to sit down again.
For all the backache, I was mindful of the fact that the worst I’d had to deal with was inconvenience.
I’d had an extra two hours stripped from my day, two hours that I might (or might not) have used more fruitfully. But the tire hadn’t blown on the bus, we hadn’t been in the 5-care pile-up, and we didn’t skid off the road in the rain.
I had more to be thankful for than to grumble about. If I chose to look at it that way, that is.
I stretched my cranky muscles and debated the matter. Then I tossed up a prayer of thanks.
I hugged my family, and said thanks again. I fixed a cup of tea and sat down to enjoy it, keenly aware that I was sitting down by choice instead of necessity. I said thanks for that liberty, too.
And when all was said and done, I went to bed, tired but not unhappy. And thankful.
