The older I get the more grateful I become. I have more of those moments where you pause to notice all the good stuff this life throws up.
Gratitude is a bit of a 21st century movement with social media making us aware of things like The Gratitude Project and Project 365. It's hip to give thanks for tumble down kids and green juices and funny goats and stuff. Things that make our hearts full and remind us that it's not all doom and gloom.
It's wise to remember that the world doesn't turn because of what's on the six o'clock news.
To be aware that there is brilliance abounding through the fabric of our daily lives. People can be insanely kind and are often possessed by unnatural goodness. Children are in fact manifestations of perfection (even though they continue to leave their dirty soccer clothes on their floor.) Goats are ridiculously cute. There are in fact some ingredients that when paired together produce a pleasure that is palpable, a feeling of nostalgic ecstasy, even an audible hallelujah (or an amazing photograph on instagram).
All moments to be grateful for.
But can we dig a little deeper?
Can we find scope in our minds to be grateful for our experiences of heartache and loss? Those times that leave us feeling broken and bruised and that remove us from our Facebook loving fever. The things we wouldn't 'post'. Shameful, hurtful ugliness that scourges through our sunny days and darkens our sleepless nights.
The things that threaten our openness.
And tighten our hearts.
Can we be grateful for this?
I wouldn't 'post' my fears and sadness, nobody wants to see my catalogue of hurt and shame. I've had my share, but it's behind me and I'm better for it. All of it, not just the stuff I pick and choose. The older I get the more I see the lessons. The more I'm grateful for the learning hidden deep with the devastation. I wouldn't change any of the days gone past. Any change I need, I put ahead of me. The past just contains a record of hurts that shaped my heart.
....and the sweeter it is when the kids are laughing, my love calls and there's something good in the oven. Your friend has good news or someone sends you a photo of a baby hedgehog in a tiny hat. It rains and the world smells washed anew. Simple stuff that feels like magic.