Count Your Blessings, Instead of Sheep
Do you ever have those days where you wish to say the divine, the awe-inspiring, the fabulous…but it seems the ads in the newspaper offers more exciting content than your distracted, drained brain can even produce. I feel that way as of now. It could be because it is the sinful hour of 4:00 am and I must get ready for work in a bit. Or maybe it is the fact that I really don’t have anything to say. Anything to say! Really, Jennie…you always have something to say. And yes, indeed I do, but I am not sure exactly what it is. I could go on talking about my life, how I went flying over the parking lot the other day—did you know that from a million miles off the ground the trees look like tiny, little heads of honeysuckle? I could tell you about the ancient battlefield I past yesterday. It was a vast, barren wasteland of memories, shadows of men fighting against shadows of darker things I dare not mention in the light of day. I could almost hear these brave men of valor, shouting triumphantly their last as they charged into the overwhelming fray, plunging their very spirits into the hearts of the foe as they died with honor.
Oh goodness! I could tell you how I was floating along the other day in a glass bubble over the world. I don’t know how I got inside of it, quite suspicious if you ask me—but nevertheless, there I was. Trapped inside a bubble made of glass, floating lazily over the world. I began to think of the man who might come into my life someday. Reviewing the past days of ridiculousness—especially my hysteria over murdering my toilet—it suddenly dawned on me that what I desperately want in a man is one who is filled with good sense. Optimism and good sense. I have hardly anyone in my life who has confident, strong, reliable good sense. I suppose I have been rather lonely a bit, though my prideful spirit won’t admit it. While I think one must learn how to be a whole and happy person without their mate, I also am beginning to feel thin and restless and stretched out. After this past semester, I feel as if I had been being pulled back tighter and tighter upon a huge rubber band. Now that it is all over, I have been snapped ahead, far forward into maturity. I feel older, wiser, and all the more anxious to leave certain childhood things behind. I long so greatly for people my own age. For men my own age. For the time when I will have someone in my life to help guide me with leadership, godly strength, good sense, and lots and lots of smiles and laughter.
But what is the good of all this longing and dreaming within glass bubbles? Nonsense and fiddle faddle, I say! A waste of energy—which, in light of certain work schedules must be preserved at all costs! No more dreaming today! Today I am quite determined to count my blessings! Today I must be thankful for all the beautiful gifts God has already given me. He blesses so richly, but we are usually too thick to see how exactly. I know I am. I am so blessed. I have some very awesome, very lovely friends in my life. I have a beautiful, witty, intelligent sister. I have a loving mother who always makes me laugh. I have so many joys and interests in writing, in reading, in creating—enough so to keep me occupied for centuries! And best of all, though I shall never EVER do him a lick of good as he is worth, I serve an awesome God who always patiently bears my silliness, my weak faith, and my proud, stupid little spirit. God has given me everything I need to be happy, plus ten million times more! So as dear, old, dead Bing Crosby once sang,
“When you’re worried and you can’t sleep, count your blessings instead of sheep. Then you’ll fall asleep counting your blessings!”
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