Commence pity partyThree hours of sleep is not the best way to start a work day. Or a work week, for that matter. Filling up my gas tank (again) is getting hard on my wallet, and I'm really sunburned.
Pity party completedLast night we all piled into the van. Eleven of us with as many blankets and sweatshirts (yeah, even with the 100 degree temps) headed to the rendezvous - a poor unsuspecting Starbucks store. We loaded up on coffee and joined the caravan. The eleven turned into twenty seven, and the destination was still unknown. Getting away from the city lights was the main idea.
The meteor shower was incredible. We laid out the blankets under the stars and soaked in the cool desert air. Dad even got to hear the crickets sing for about three seconds. We told scary stories, lame jokes and plans for the future. We ooh'ed and ahh'ed over the meteors streaking across the sky and tried (unsuccessfully) to convince one of the little ones that shooting stars don't make any noise, and if they wanted to see them, they needed to look at the sky instead of burying their head under the blanket.
In retrospect, it was totally worth it. But retrospect wasn't what I had in mind when my alarm when off this morning. Tearing my head away from my pillow was actually physically painful.
I groaned about getting up, I silently complained about my empty gas tank, and I wanted to be mad about my sunburned shoulders too, until I remembered a snippet of a conversation I'd recently had with my sister.
I was putting my contacts in as we were getting ready for the day. I'm the only one in the house who has to wear corrective lenses besides my parents who each have their reading glasses. The contacts are a trial pair that maybe don't quite fit right, so they're not exactly comfortable and - to be honest - I've been in this "let's feel sorry for Merrie" mood for a couple days now.
"Have you thanked God today for your vision?" I asked my sister.
"No," she responded. "Have you?"
Ouch. Lately I've spent so much time thinking about what I don't have that I forget to be thankful for what I do have.
The five hours of sleep that I didn't get? Well - I told you about the meteor shower already. The empty tank of gas? Two perfectly beautiful trips to the beach within three days. The sunburned shoulders? Hours of playing beach volleyball with my friends, splashing through the surf, visiting, laughing and playing more volleyball.
It's taking me a while, but I'm learning how to say "Thank You."