This week, I heard this song, and it made me want to cry. Not sad tears, just overly grateful for the truth these words hold.

As I write this it’s 10:00 am on Wednesday and I haven’t turned on my phone. The house is so still and quiet that all I hear is the distant beeping of a truck backing up. The sun is shining brightly and looking out the window of where I’m perched to write, a gentle breeze is moving though the branches of my neighbors Chinaberry tree, which is covered in lavender blooms and lush green leaves. I just poured my second cup of freshly ground coffee upon returning from a walk.

There’s a lot of little blessings in the paragraph above. Sometimes we think blessings are supposed to be shiny to truly snag our attention, but they are quietly present waiting to be seen.

Let’s break it down. I woke up to a new day and stuck with the choice of not turning on my phone and actually own a phone. I was able to get out of bed with no aches, or pains. I have a good, solid home to wake up in and a bed with it’s own room. I can hear, see and touch things that feed my soul. The vintage typewriter has a full page written with ideas for what’s next and I wrote a thank you note to Betsy + Iya in response to their thank you note received in yesterday’s mail.

Continuing on with the ritual of morning, I melted some wax beads and poured a puddle on the back of the notecard, pressed in the stamp and let it dry while getting dressed. Dropped the notecard in the mailbox on my way out for a walk. I get to walk freely up and down the streets, except for the occasional neighbor stepping outside to chat, but even that is a blessing.

I get overwhelmed with all the goodness in the tiniest of details, but this type of overwhelm is joyfully embraced. This song says it best with, “I will keep counting my blessings, knowing I can’t count that high”.