Wednesday during surgery, our O2 hose popped off our flowmeter with a loud BANG! T jumped. After regaining his composure, he looks at me and says, “Since I grew up in a war-torn country, you’d think such noises wouldn’t scare me.”
I had no idea what to say to that. I have no idea what it’s like to actually live somewhere that is war-torn. I read a lot. I read a lot about what it’s like in other countries. I enjoy others’ stories. But no, I do not know what that is like, even if I can imagine it when I read about it. I am so very thankful that I have the privilege to not know what it’s like. We are blessed far beyond what we acknowledge here.
These small things–they hold vast magnamity. I hope I never forget to stop and give thanks for these little things.
I do not know what it’s like to not have clean water to drink.
I do not know what it’s like to not have clothes on my back.
I do not know what it’s like to have every little possession taken away from me.
I do not know what it’s like to have my family torn apart.
There is always so, so much to be thankful for.
“Joy is what happens to us when we allow ourselves to recognize how good things really are.”
– Marianne Williamson