More Than Enough

There have been some dark days lately. Sleep deprivation and grieving is not a recipe for awesomeness. And then of course there was the unspeakable event in Newtown, which brought about dark days for our entire nation. Tim and I both cried this weekend. Every time I closed my eyes I pictured those kids. I thought of their parents. I thought of my own daughter.

I’m still thinking of these things.

But today, I want to talk about goodness. I want to talk about gratitude. I want to talk about enough.

I had a good day yesterday. Despite not getting a ton of sleep the night before, I woke up feeling well rested. I went to work, used my brain and felt productive. When I picked up Lettie at daycare she laughed, for maybe the fourth time ever. Instead of going to bed at my usual 8 pm (no, I’m not exaggerating here), I stayed up and ate dinner with Tim: salmon, Brussels sprouts and instant rice.

These are all small things. Ordinary things. But on that day, they were more than enough. I went to bed last night feeling incredibly blessed and—for no real reason at all—strangely hopeful.

And to me, that is the best way I can honor the memory of my mother, and the memory of those twenty innocent children: by counting my blessings. By cherishing each precious, mundane day. By finding hope in unexpected places.

Because living in a world without hope is not an option.

2 thoughts on “More Than Enough

  1. I am right there with you. The past few nights I’ve cried in my bed because my babies are safe and other people’s babies are not. You are right about the laughter and the salmon and all of those (not so) little things and how perfect they are for that moment. I’m clinging to mine. That’s what we must do.

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