I woke this morning wondering how best to honour the victims and survivors of Black Saturday, this being our country’s  National Day of Mourning.

Whilst watching and weeping as events were broadcast, would have been entirely acceptable, it did seem a little self indulgent.  Sitting in my comfy space, having lost nothing, I wondered how that would be honouring anyone or anything?

So instead, the kids and I ventured to the Tree Chapel at our local botanical garden.  The little boys said a prayer of thanks for the packet of chips I had bought for them, whilst the eldest (self conscious) listened as I prayed for those lost souls and survivors.  More than just a prayer of need, I wanted the children to know of my thanks and gratitude.  That amongst the loss and grief, there was much to be grateful for.

As we walked the grounds, I felt the grass, moist and green lick at my toes.  Icky and delicious at the same time.  We stopped and wondered under an enormous tree, branches so high and heavy, they draped a curtain around us.  Green foliage brushed our faces as we pushed through into the world, from one perfect place to another.   The children discovered a cache of acorns, greedily stuffing them into their pockets to take home to Dad.  We ran and we wandered.  Little one’s laughter and chattering swept passed and around me on the wind.

At times I noticed the other folks around us.  Most going about the duty of parenting, their frowning faces lost to their task.  Always one to jump to condescension, today I saw them, and saw myself only yesterday.  Heavy and laden with life.  Today however, with my thoughts of the fallen, I had shrugged off my own hardship and allowed a light to shine.  I felt a connection.  A connection to the land and all those that love her like I do.
I walked barefoot on the same earth, raised my face to the same sunlight.  Felt a breeze that at one time had fanned flames, that now caressed and nurtured.

Sometimes a moment is all we get.  You’d better be ready and willing and open, coz tomorrow, when the kids are bickering, and your brain is pulsating in your skull (from that fictitious tumour you’re always telling people you might be getting), gratitude will just be a word that makes you roll your eyes.  You’ll go back to your disconnectedness, just like me.

We should certainly count our blessings, but we should also make our blessings count.
Neil A. Maxwell

 

Today I feel blessed.  Blessed and grateful.  Not because I saw a unicorn or found that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.  Blessed because today was ordinary.  Ordinary sunshine, ordinary friends, normal, ordinary conversations.   The children remained sane despite party foods, and the grown-ups were left to be grown-ups for a while.   No bickering, no uncomfortable silences, no awkwardness amongst new found friends.        

I have never asked for the extraordinary in my life.  Just peace.  At times the universe has struggled to grant me this wish, throwing one exceptional hurdle after another my way.  Sometimes the way has been blurry, and my ability to be grateful has strayed.  And sometimes I just didn’t even know what to be grateful for, or what that even meant!  Unless it’s wrapped in a bow and placed in a beautiful box, we don’t see the gift that sits before us.

“When someone said count your blessings now
‘fore they’re long gone
I guess I just didn’t know how”

And so today amongst the ordinary and the mundane (and I hope nobody is insulted by that description), I found a little treasure.

In the ordinary, sometimes we find the truly extraordinary.  As for my blessings?  Consider them well and truly present and accounted for!        

                                             

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