Though I'm quick to say that we don't live in paradise, my husband is quite certain that Heaven will be just like Florida - without hurricanes and mosquitoes.
July or August, he'd get quite the argument from me, but on sun-kissed days like these I'm inclined to agree.
When it's cool and sunny and the birds are singing and the flowers - wild - are blooming and all is well with me and mine, it's easy to be agreeable and gratitude spilling.
The real test - the challenge for me - is this. When it's hot and humid, and the cat throws up on the carpet, and I drop the yogurt on the just-mopped kitchen floor and all is not well with me and mine. Does gratitude spill then?
Have I truly cultivated an eye for life's mercies? Will I still count gifts - name them, photograph them, list them, sing them, speak them, paint them - on difficult, less-than-stellar, horrible, no-good days?
