Mery and Those Mashed Potatoes I Always Blog About

Mery at the bee farm.

It is like living in a reoccurring Ensign article.
Every morning I wake up with the same hymn humming out of my lips. For the first bright hours of any given day I hang on to the tune until, around noon, I have cognizantly caught on to the words.

Oh, love effulgent, love divine!
What debt of gratitude is mine,

That in his off’ring I have part

And hold a place within his heart.

Because I have read enough Ensign articles in my lifetime I know that there is a message to be had in this daily ritual. Until all is revealed I have been focusing on the line debt of gratitude.

Here is my public decree of gratitude-ness:

  • The turquoise carpet in my bedroom (and now! matching chandelier!)
  • Lucy and Ric's new bee farm.
  • Chup's new AMAZING! lazers that we bounce off of the town landmarks on clear nights from the foothills.
  • The little wood birdies Cari dropped on my doorstep.
  • A body that expands every time The Chief needs to s-t-r-e-t-c-h!
  • Knowledge to be gained when personal questions materialize.
  • My dad's mashed potatoes which I've found to cure almost anything. (Maybe I should start a pyramid scheme company???)
  • Good, caring In-Laws who nurture my husband on Sunday night phone calls.
  • Redman Clay masques, making my skin soft and flesh-colored.
  • What Brother Green said today about comfort zones being spiritual death-traps. (I am still thinking . . .)
  • My niece Mery who was bravely birthed in the front seat of her parent's SUV four years ago.
  • Kacy's advice about impending birth and self-tanned legs. (My kind of advice.)
  • (Parenthesis.)
  • Sharing a table with friends who I adore while honoring a friend who I love.
  • My piano teacher of yore who taught me (and taught me) (and taught me) how to read music.
  • When a kind reader makes an introduction to say "I read your blog." I always blush, melt, and feel honored.
  • Gatorade, because it really is thirst aid, you know, for that deep down body thirst.

I've got to stop there. I am realizing that the more I list-make, the more my gratitude capacity fills and I become too gratefully overcome. This leads to tears, and inevitably me wanting to call everyone I know and sing their praises to the same tune of the hymn implanted in my heart. Which I could do, but I am as tired as a nine-month-pregnant female on the way to a Major Life Change. And my emotional uncomfortability is far surpassing my physically uncomfortability (which is saying a lot) therefore leaving me in serious, hopeless, gratitude debt.

What debt of gratitude is mine?

Someone call an accountant.

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