There’s been a lot written about blessing counting.
In the movie “Holiday Inn,” Bing Crosby sang a song about counting your blessings instead of sheep.
We still sing an old hymn about counting your many blessings and how it may surprise you what the Lord has done.
It’s tough out there right now. I know folks who have lost jobs and lost homes.
There are jobs that we once thought were recession-proof that don’t exist anymore.
But there is so much to be thankful for. If you woke up this morning on the green side of the grass, then be thankful for that.
I used to say that my end of life goal was to be shot at the age of 105 by a 26-year-old jealous husband … who was right.
Based on one of those Internet surveys (and of course you can believe anything you read on the Internet), I won’t make it to 105.
If I go tomorrow, I’m thankful that it has been a good ride. I’ve squeezed a lot of living into my time thus far. I’ve met people and been places that I never dreamed of.
I’m thankful for my wife, who loves me despite all my shortcomings. She doesn’t read my columns in advance. If I hear her laughing on Sunday morning when it first appears in print, I’m thankful for that.
I’m thankful for the adults for whom we provide goods, services or shelter. They used to be our children, but they have passed the age of being children.
We provide an assortment of things ranging from money to cell phones. Every now and then, they’ll express their gratitude. I love those moments.
I’m thankful for my in-laws. I love when I cook something on the grill, take it to them and they call back and gush about how good it was.
I’m grateful for old songs, country and standards, that tell a story. I like songs that have a good play on words that make you smile.
I’m thankful for places to eat that aren’t pretty or fancy but offer something you can’t get anywhere else.
I’m thankful for beautiful beginnings and endings to a day. A great sunrise or sunset is God’s message that “I’m here.”
I’m thankful for friends, especially the kind of friends you don’t see often, but yet you just pick up where you left off.
I’m thankful for folks who hug necks or give you a little sugar on the cheek. I met a stranger last week and she rubbed my hand as she held it while we talked.
That was a nice memory.
Speaking of memories, I’m thankful for Thanksgiving memories. There are a lot of people I love who are gone, but in the theater of my mind, I can play back my visions of them, especially at this time of year.
I’m thankful for people who read newspapers. First of all, they are smarter than folks who don’t. Without them, I’d just be writing this stuff and I don’t know what I’d do with it.
I just gave you a few hundred words of blessing counting. If you try it, you might just conjure up a wonderful memory or thought that will make your day.
Harris Blackwood is the author of “When Old Mowers Die.” His e-mail address is firstname.lastname@example.org.