Here I am. The last night of being 21.
It was a very good year.
God has blessed me in more ways than my brain can fathom.
I have loving parents. I have the best friends a girl could ask for. I have the world’s greatest best friend. I have a roof over my head and food in my stomach. I have a great family, and we all like each other (which I’m learning is a rare occurrence in extended families). I have a church that is as much my family as the people related by blood.
I have dozens of colorful scarves and a closet full of pretty clothes. I have three adorable cats. I have shoes.
I even have tickets to a Broadway show and a tambourine shaped like a crescent moon.
I’ve got it made. God spoils me, and I have no idea why. When have I ever done anything for Him that entitled me to any of this special treatment?
That’s just it. I didn’t. Not at all. I’m not a great person. I’m not even a very good one. I say mean things sometimes. I get angry. I get frustrated. I worry. I’m lazy. I deserve nothing.
Yet He’s given me everything I could possibly want.
So I’d like to give credit where credit is due. God has given me everything I will ever need, and has withheld the things He knows would be bad for me.
I have no reason to complain about anything. Ever.
May I read this again one day, and remember to always be grateful.