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| Bittersweet |
Yesterday morning I rose late. It was Sunday, after all.
I grabbed my coffee, as usual, sat on the front porch and watched the gray skies brighten as the sun rose higher behind the.
"I am so blessed," I thought.
I had just spent most of the week, probably the last really warm week of the year, glued to the couch, with a fever and scratchy throat. COVID had knocked me down.
Less than a month ago I significantly changed my diet -- giving up some tasty foods, possibly for good -- in order to heal some health issues.
The weather had been dry, along with being unusually warm, so I worry a bit about the trees and perennials in the garden.
My father is in the hospital after having a stroke.
But there I was, feeling grateful for my life.
Life is sweet, because when the night is over, the sun rises. Clouds may cover it, but yesterday it meant rain was coming, finally.
My recovery has been rapid and yesterday I finally stopped blowing my nose every five minutes. My energy was rebounding. (Today, I'm even better.) The diet is getting easier, and I've seen promising results.
My father slowly improves with therapy and my mother's constant presence. We're assured that he will see his 100th birthday on Tuesday next week.
However, even if it hadn't rained, or my illness had lingered longer, life is still sweet. My dad will never get back to where he was before the stroke. And the diet remains challenging.
Yet, I am grateful.
Gratitude.
It's not just something we dust off and put on the mantel for Thanksgiving, it's something that's best worn every single day. Even when the day is rough, a little gratitude smooths the waves a bit.
Every morning I grab my mug of coffee (Thank you), I walk out the front door of my cozy home (Thank you), I sit on my front porch and look out toward the sunrise (Thank you) and say, "Thank you for this new day and whatever it brings."
Gratitude doesn't make life easy. It does, however, sweeten things.
Some of you reading this may feel that life is far more bitter than sweet. I hope that you can learn to see whatever sweetness there is. Even if it does not, at the moment, outweigh the bitter, I'm sure it is there. Keep your eye on it, let it draw you toward it, the way this bittersweet vine in the redcedar tree drew me to admire it. Let it's seeds sprout and bring more sweetness into your life. That is my prayer, my wish for you.
(NOTE: The photo above is of American bittersweet, Celastrus scandens, a native vine, not to be confused with the invasive and destructive Oriental bittersweet, which can strangle trees.)
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