Counting My Blessings

Of all the wonderful wedding gifts Dear Husband and I received, the blessing basket given to us by my aunt and uncle was one of the loveliest.

A card attached to the Bangladeshi basket said it was the perfect place to hold our blessings. I loved the basket for its symbolism as well as for what it meant to others. The third-world weavers who create these baskets are paid 'prosperity wages' for their work that gives them the opportunity to break the cycle of poverty.

Shortly after our wedding, DH and I placed a copy of our marriage license in the basket as our first blessing. But before long, the blessing basket became a storage place for the many attachments for DH's precious kitchen aide mixer.

I came across the blessing basket today. It looked dusty and forlorn. The marriage license was crumpled in the bottom. I took the license out without looking at it and carefully removed the cobwebs from the basket. I placed it on the dining room table and wondered what to put into it. My life feels particularly bereft of blessings right now.

Later, I took a look at the website of the organization that distributes the baskets. Its founder began the project after a particularly bleak time in her own life, when she gathered cards and letters from friends into a basket to remind her of the wonderful people in her life.

My black mood abruptly lifted. I suddenly realized that I have everything I need and more. I moved around my apartment collecting reminders of those blessings. A framed picture of a friend represented all of the wonderful individuals who have offered their support and friendship. A spare leash represented the dogs, past and present, who have shown me love, made me laugh, and kept me company.

A recovery coin spoke to the fact that I haven't had to take the edge off in almost 12 years. A set of keys represented my safe, affordable apartment. A dollar bill reminded me that I have a relatively easy and lucrative way to make a living. The objects kept piling in. When I was done, I felt truly blessed.

I haven't always been as ungrateful as I felt earlier today. When I was an old-lady college student at 30, a friend gave me a gratitude journal that served much the same purpose as the blessing basket. Although I was dirt-poor then, I made a point of filling the lines each day with things for which I was grateful. I still have that journal, and occasionally leaf through it and laugh at the items I listed. Clean sheets. Macaroni and cheese. And always, the same things I wrote about above - love, friendship, sobriety, dogs, and a roof over my head.

Filling that basket tonight reminded me of what's important in life. Hearts are broken. Loss is painful. But happiness, true happiness, comes from recognizing the blessings that already exist in our lives.