I must be getting old. I caught myself nodding off in my chair earlier. When I looked at the clock, it said 9 pm. I guess 9 o’clock really is the new midnight once you hit 50. But I’m thankful that it’s a good kind of tired after a productive week rather than the kind of tired after you haven’t really done anything and wasted your day.
Whenever I’m tempted to drift into negative thinking about my job, I remember what it was like to not have one. I clearly recall feeling useless and lazy. I know I’m not supposed to find my identity in work, but there’s just something innate in us that longs to contribute and make a difference, the longing that God gave to Adam and Eve in the garden when he told them to tend over the new creation.
I’m thankful that I like the people I work with and they like me. Nothing’s worse than an environment where there are factions and sides and people who won’t talk to other people. Nothing destroys morale quicker than friction and factions.
I’m thankful for my little tortie who always greets me when I get home and announces in her own little way that she wants head scritches and belly rubs. I like it when she curls up in my lap — even though she steals my spot whenever I get up to pee or to grab a snack. She’s crafty like that.
I’m thankful for the extended holiday weekend. It’s a chance to turn off the alarm and to sleep until daylight, which is a rarity these days.
I’m thankful for the absolute certainty of God’s love for me and the 100% security of my salvation. Even when my feelings tell me not to trust in God, I know His promises are truer than what I feel or what I think. God’s unchangableness trumps my fickle feelings every single time.
I’m thankful for the anticipation of good food tomorrow. There will be turkey. Lots of it.