I was a very quiet child. I liked the luxury of solitude. For the youngest of three children, solitude was a luxury. I enjoyed those wonderful days when I got to go to grandma’s house by myself, without my brother or sister and without my cousins, when I was left on my own to discover the wonders of Aunt Gerry’s room or grandma’s pantry. Sometimes grandma’s friends or neighbors would stop by and because I was such a quiet child, they sometimes forgot I was there. And they got to talking as if there wasn’t a child in the house.
I overheard a lot of things I wasn’t meant to hear, much of it unintelligible and mostly boring. One thing I learned about grown-ups is that they were not very happy most of the time. Or maybe, it just seemed that way because in Grandma’s parlor, or at her kitchen table, people felt free to tell her how they really felt. Sometimes, when someone finished their litany of complaints against the world, a long pause was followed by a sigh and someone would say, “Well, count your blessings.” Oftentimes, that was followed by a chuckle, and sometimes a confusing—to a five-year-old anyway—blend of laughter and tears together. And a little more hot water for your tea.
When I was a teenager, I was old enough to sit at the table in grandma’s kitchen and recite my own litany—my list of disappointments, my case against my parents, my sister, Ronald Reagan, the universe, and everything. When I was finished, grandma would say. “Debbie (she’s the only person in the world allowed to call me Debbie so don’t even try it), you have to count your blessings. Now would you like some more hot water for that tea bag?”
But I was too young and far too earnest to laugh. The injustice of the world was too great to be eased by a little gospel, that’s what I thought at the time anyway.
But the truth is, Jesus and grandma were right. All things must pass away… and all things have, including my parents, my sister, Ronald Reagan and grandma, and I miss (almost) all of them dearly.
The apostle Paul wrote to the church: I know what it is to have little, and I know what it is to have plenty. In any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of being well-fed and of going hungry, of having plenty and of being in need. (Philippians 4:12)
And the secret is in counting ourselves blessed, in any and all circumstances.
Blessed are you who who are poor, for all God’s creation is yours. ‘Blessed are you who are hungry, for you will eat and be satisfied. Blessed are you who weep and mourn, for the time will come again when you will laugh. (Luke 6:20-21, paraphrased).
Blessed are you when you are confused, for all things will become clear. Blessed are you when you are lost, for you will be found. Blessed are you broken hearted, for your heart will be mended. Blessed are you who have sorrow now, for you will rejoice.
And I say to all who live and breathe: Count yourself blessed. Amen.
