I am certain that if you think on it, there are a dozen or more people that you can name that have it worse than you do. Although I have experienced real, personal sadness, I have come to accept that there are far worse things that I could be enduring right now…

I think about the men and women representing our country and upholding our values in Iraq. I think of the families, the horrors, the survivors. I think of the man who lost his wife and two children in a tragic hit and run accident in Denver last November. I think about his profound loss, his own personal grief, and his continued strength. I think of the political unrest in Turkey and Venezuela. I think about the many individual lives that are impacted by the decisions of a select few in positions of power. I think about the senseless brutalities in the news and the evil that seems to prevail on a national and global level. I think about the sickness and suffering. I think about the sadness, emptiness, and hopelessness that invades the hearts of people like the plague.

Closer to home, I think of my neighbors, friends, co-workers, and even those in my own family who have not heard, or will not listen, to the Truth. I think of my lifelong friend who is a single mom struggling to raise her daughter solo and pay the bills. I begin to think of my dear friends who have lived happily the basement of their parents’ home for two years (with their active toddler and a seventy pound dog.) I think of a crazy cousin, a man with a wayward heart, and a woman with broken dreams.

My guess is, there are not many people who would volunteer to walk a mile in my marred and scuffed shoes. There are far fewer people that I would want to swap shoes with; mine seem to suit me somehow. And I know of only One who is willing to carry me when I am weary from the journey and can’t seem to take another step. He carries me now.

There is a poem that speaks to this notion of being thankful for the soles you wear, for who you are, and what you have. I would like to share it with you. It has encouraged me in these last two weeks.

Even though I clutch my blanket and growl when the alarm rings,

Thank you, Lord, that I can hear. There are many who are deaf.

Even tough I keep my eyes closed against the morning light as long as possible,

Thank you, Lord, that I can see. Many are blind.

Even though I huddle in my bed and put off rising,

Thank you, Lord that I have the strength to rise. There are many who are bedridden.

Even though the breakfast table never looks like the pictures in magazines and the menu is at times unbalanced,

Thank you, Lord for the food we have. There are many who are hungry.

Even though the routine of my job is often monotonous.

Thank you, Lord for the opportunity to work. There are many who have no job.

Even though I grumble and bemoan my fate from day to day and wish my circumstances were different,

Thank you, Lord for life!

–Author Unknown