It has been exactly one month since I touched my thankfulness journal. At first it was the busy running of family stuff that drew me away, then it was the death of my sil. Still, I had things to record, and I kept a running list in my head of the most important things that I didn't want to forget. Granted it wasn't the record I wanted to keep, but I felt like it was manageable, and then the bottom fell out, and I fell off the small ledge of thankfulness that I was trying to make into my lifes path.
Everything started to slowly change. I saw the journal but it looked boring. I thought about it, but it seemed insignificant, after all real life is hard and days are gloomy, and tigers don't lose their stripes. Too much time had passed, so many moments and days missed. I felt the bleakness, but refused to believe that it had anything to do with my journal, because after all how could my small words really change the big mess of ingratitude that was me. It must have been a placebo effect, the rush of something new. The magic pill. Always, always impatient, always wanting the instant gratification the results now.
In the end I picked it up, not for any other reason than I had to. I had to, because I said I would write to 1000, and if I didn't keep my word I couldn't live with the feeling of failure in something so small as being thankful. I didn't want to feel the weight of regret. Inspiring reason,I know! I had to summarize a whole month in one phrase. I had to at least record it somehow. There is no going back, those days are gone and I missed a lot. There are many days ahead (Lord willing)and I hope to be present for them, this one month of dust will not summarize my life. I have been given another day to be thankful, and I intend to persevere and maybe even do some wrestling for the blessings. I want the new me back, not the familiar one.
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