Gratitude

It is a truth universally acknowledged that crazy people are going to do crazy things—and the world will always have a surplus of them. They will pour insults like acid on your head; they will drag you in to their endless, self-inflicted drama. They will ask you for a thousand favors and give none. They will squeeze every last drop of pity out of your system and then tell their friends that you’re the vampire when you have nothing left to give to the permanent victim. And when that fails, they will simply switch to a new flavor of crazy. And when you move on from them, they will wait a few months and then chase you down again—or they’ll be gone just as a new one works its way out of new shadows.

The whole world thrums with constant crazy, and you can stew on that injustice as long as you’d like. I spent most of my afternoon simmering with it, and the anger didn’t fix a darn thing. But then I remembered what a man said this morning at church about gratitude, and the equation shifted.

Sure, there’s a time and place to let yourself sit in the anger and sadness and hurt of it all. I don’t mean to deny that. These are complicated puzzles built with complicated clues, and each one takes a good bit of handling to know how to solve. It’s just that at the same time, there’s also this: I have a life I absolutely love.

I crack at least fifty jokes a day and greet 200-some-odd students in the hall. I wear clothes I like, with bright colors and slim fits. My husband is the most interesting person I’ve ever met, and I get to spend hours hanging out with him every day. I go to a church with an epicenter of love and truth. My friends genuinely care about me. My little invisible belly baby is bigger today than the day before. I have food in the kitchen and a smart, smart man who thinks to the future and provides well for us. I have learned to resist workaholism by simply saying “no” instead of slaving away every day after hours, which means that now at the end of the day I come home and rest.

“He fills my life with good things.” Psalm 103:5

Some days, for a handful of minutes at a time, I have to think through a way to wisely respond to crazy people who try to chip away at the person I am and the joy that I carry. Those minutes will most likely always drive me halfway crazy, too—but the trick is that after they’re over, I don’t have to stay there. I have the rest of the day to drink up my beautiful life, the life that I’m building and not the chaos that consumes the crazies. I can give in and let them dictate my emotions for hours on end—or I can close the gate behind me and cultivate my garden, grow flowers and herbs and adventures and art.

My life will be full, and I will fix my gaze on its blessings and zest.