Counting Blessings
12/06/13 05:32
I know that there are people who sleep in climate-controlled rooms with the windows closed so that the temperature and humidity can be precisely regulated. That seems sad to me this morning as I awoke to the songs of birds outside my window and the lush smell of the forest that was dampened by a shower as I went to bed. For a few minutes last night the bedroom curtains blew into the room with the winds of the advancing storm, but it was brief, as showers sometimes are and I soon received the gift of glorious sleep. I somewhere read that it is healthy to sleep in a a warm bed in a cool room. Under our quilt, I slept in what must have been perfect conditions.
Of course, we live with the luxury of modern conveniences. We have heat in our home that can be adjusted with the touch of a thermostat. Our house is equipped with double-paned windows and we have storm windows in addition to keep out winter’s cold. But we have been blessed to live in a place where most nights we can sleep with the windows open.
I know that there are people who have beautifully manicured lawns and who find the presence of deer who eat flowers and turkeys who leave behind their messes to be an annoyance. That too seems sad to me this morning. I love to watch the deer and turkeys who share their neighborhood with us. I can sometimes get annoyed with the mess and I did put up a tall fence to keep the deer out of my vegetable garden, but it is a gift to live in the midst of things that are wild and not subject to complete control. I would be poorer were it not for the joys of watching the critters in my yard.
Of course there are problems with the wild creatures. We have hit deer on the road when we didn’t expect to. We have watched little ones born only to die crossing the road before they grow up. I’ve never hit a turkey with my car, but I’ve seen the damage that occurs when others do. One day right behind our house a car lost its grill and had its radiator punctured by a turkey that lost the race to cross the road.
I know that there are people who have become emotionally isolated so that the death of a friend becomes, for them, a routine event. It is a sad thing, I think. I read, yesterday, of Monday’s death of my friend Jim Kuehn. The glowing reports in the newspaper are what one would expect of a retired newspaper editor. There are many who remember his editorials following the 1972 Rapid City Flood and the 1973 uprising at Wounded Knee. I didn’t meet Jim until after he had retired. I remember his love of language and storytelling. I remember his interest in life and learning. I remember his ceaseless promotion of Mount Rushmore and the Black Hills. I know that the parking lot at Calvary Lutheran Church will be full on Friday. I would be there were it not for a family funeral that takes me out of town.
I have met people who are so devastated by grief and loss that they are unable to form close friendships and unwilling to expose themselves to additional grief. It is a sad thing when it happens. I don’t like the sorrow that comes into my life, but I know it is a blessing to be able to feel it. I think that the sadness of grief is one of the treasures of life. Life is sweet in part because it has limits. Were it to go on forever, we might never learn to appreciate how precious it is.
I know that there are people who have expensive riding lawn mowers and others who hire someone else to mow their lawn. There are perfectly good reasons for doing so. But even though I sometimes complain about having to invest two hours in mowing my lawn, I know that the gift of exercise in a beautiful outdoor setting is a blessing. Even the stiff shoulder I feel the next day is a blessing. It reminds me that I am alive. How sad it would be to not be able to feel. I’ve been mowing the same lawn with the same lawn mower since 1995. I guess that an eighteen-year-old lawn mower couldn’t really be considered to be “new” any more, but it seems new to me It is reliable and easy to operate and it seems to be good for a few more years. Some days it seems like I might wear out before it does.
One of the songs I remember my mother singing is a thanksgiving hymn by Johnson Oatman. The chorus of the hymn came to me as I was waking to the song of the birds this morning:
Count your blessings, name them one by one,
Count your blessings, see what God hath done!
Count your blessings, name them one by one,
Count your many blessings, see what God hath done.
I’ve also sung it with an alternate last line: “And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done.”
The bottom line is that when I stop to think of the many blessings that are a part of my life, I am indeed a very fortunate person. I have health and family and am constantly surrounded by love. I have a church that is mission-minded and engaged in serving others. I have a job that allows me to earn my way in this world. The list goes on and on.
The last verse of the song (at least the way I learned it) goes like this:
So, amid the conflict whether great or small,
Do not be discouraged, God is over all;
Count you many blessings, angels will attend,
Help; and comfort give you to your journey’s end.
Counting blessings is not a bad way to begin your day. It is hard not to do so when you can breath the fresh air and hear the birds singing right outside your open window.
Of course, we live with the luxury of modern conveniences. We have heat in our home that can be adjusted with the touch of a thermostat. Our house is equipped with double-paned windows and we have storm windows in addition to keep out winter’s cold. But we have been blessed to live in a place where most nights we can sleep with the windows open.
I know that there are people who have beautifully manicured lawns and who find the presence of deer who eat flowers and turkeys who leave behind their messes to be an annoyance. That too seems sad to me this morning. I love to watch the deer and turkeys who share their neighborhood with us. I can sometimes get annoyed with the mess and I did put up a tall fence to keep the deer out of my vegetable garden, but it is a gift to live in the midst of things that are wild and not subject to complete control. I would be poorer were it not for the joys of watching the critters in my yard.
Of course there are problems with the wild creatures. We have hit deer on the road when we didn’t expect to. We have watched little ones born only to die crossing the road before they grow up. I’ve never hit a turkey with my car, but I’ve seen the damage that occurs when others do. One day right behind our house a car lost its grill and had its radiator punctured by a turkey that lost the race to cross the road.
I know that there are people who have become emotionally isolated so that the death of a friend becomes, for them, a routine event. It is a sad thing, I think. I read, yesterday, of Monday’s death of my friend Jim Kuehn. The glowing reports in the newspaper are what one would expect of a retired newspaper editor. There are many who remember his editorials following the 1972 Rapid City Flood and the 1973 uprising at Wounded Knee. I didn’t meet Jim until after he had retired. I remember his love of language and storytelling. I remember his interest in life and learning. I remember his ceaseless promotion of Mount Rushmore and the Black Hills. I know that the parking lot at Calvary Lutheran Church will be full on Friday. I would be there were it not for a family funeral that takes me out of town.
I have met people who are so devastated by grief and loss that they are unable to form close friendships and unwilling to expose themselves to additional grief. It is a sad thing when it happens. I don’t like the sorrow that comes into my life, but I know it is a blessing to be able to feel it. I think that the sadness of grief is one of the treasures of life. Life is sweet in part because it has limits. Were it to go on forever, we might never learn to appreciate how precious it is.
I know that there are people who have expensive riding lawn mowers and others who hire someone else to mow their lawn. There are perfectly good reasons for doing so. But even though I sometimes complain about having to invest two hours in mowing my lawn, I know that the gift of exercise in a beautiful outdoor setting is a blessing. Even the stiff shoulder I feel the next day is a blessing. It reminds me that I am alive. How sad it would be to not be able to feel. I’ve been mowing the same lawn with the same lawn mower since 1995. I guess that an eighteen-year-old lawn mower couldn’t really be considered to be “new” any more, but it seems new to me It is reliable and easy to operate and it seems to be good for a few more years. Some days it seems like I might wear out before it does.
One of the songs I remember my mother singing is a thanksgiving hymn by Johnson Oatman. The chorus of the hymn came to me as I was waking to the song of the birds this morning:
Count your blessings, name them one by one,
Count your blessings, see what God hath done!
Count your blessings, name them one by one,
Count your many blessings, see what God hath done.
I’ve also sung it with an alternate last line: “And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done.”
The bottom line is that when I stop to think of the many blessings that are a part of my life, I am indeed a very fortunate person. I have health and family and am constantly surrounded by love. I have a church that is mission-minded and engaged in serving others. I have a job that allows me to earn my way in this world. The list goes on and on.
The last verse of the song (at least the way I learned it) goes like this:
So, amid the conflict whether great or small,
Do not be discouraged, God is over all;
Count you many blessings, angels will attend,
Help; and comfort give you to your journey’s end.
Counting blessings is not a bad way to begin your day. It is hard not to do so when you can breath the fresh air and hear the birds singing right outside your open window.