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Taking Stock


Everyday I must take stock
Of all the ease embedded in my troubles

 

Of all the tiny gifts that glint and sparkle
Like sunlight on the rippling water of my day

 

Of the sudden relief
At once incredible and inexplicable
Those loved ones You gave back to me
The health and comfort returned to me
The layers of blessings that cloak me
The peace and wealth enveloping me
The niche of safety in which You place me
The miracles, the miracles, the miracles

 

Each day, each hour, each minute
Real as rocks and trees and birds
Hidden as nectar, air and gems
Near-misses, cures, respites and recoverings

 

Your ability to change my thoughts, my mood, my heart
For the better
-To what I don’t deserve

 

And still there are the miracles
Too wondrous and magnificent
To allow their frequency
To accustom me to their marvel

 

Each day I try to calculate all my blessings
To figure out how to show my gratitude
-Until I realize
That both ‘to see and to want to thank’
Are blessings, too.

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