When I was small, my grandmother used to complain a lot. I mean, a lot! She was the one that if it was a sunny day, she would look for clouds. Nevertheless, she used to tell me a lot that I should count my blessings. Now, I seldom attended church when I was young. My mom took us on special days like Easter, but otherwise, Sunday was just another day of the week for me until I met my new neighbor Sharon and she started inviting me to go to church with them. I enjoyed the Sunday school classes and the way the church service followed the same pattern week after week. That is the first time I heard about God and I was in my teens. But I still didn’t know what it means to count my blessings as my grandmother had told me to do.

When I went to college, I was busy, overwhelmed really with new things. I was away from home for the first time and got involved in my studies and my campus job. I dated some, but not much because I was really shy. I didn’t attend church, but I was aware that God was around somewhere because my roommate attended church regularly and seemed to like going. Again, I don’t recall counting blessings. I was more likely to count the days until I had an exam or a break at home.

It was after I finished college and started my first job that I began to see how alone I was and was feeling discouraged, even though I had a new fiancé and a new job and my own place to live. When my apartment neighbor introduced me to Jesus, I began to see that He was what I needed all along. Finally, finally, I began to count my blessings! The blessing of being loved by a good man, the blessing of finding a good church and making new friends, the blessing of having a neighbor who befriended me. I was beginning to understand what my grandmother was telling me. Life is hard and throws some real curve balls sometimes, but God is always good and you can always look for the blessings and find them.

Now that I am much older, I see blessings everywhere. I see them in the garden outside my window, in the beautiful sunrise and sunset, in the faces of my children and grandchildren, in my husband’s patience with me. The list goes on and on. There isn’t enough time to enumerate all of my blessings, but God continues to bless me, every day in more ways than I can imagine.

I don’t know why my grandmother complained so much, but I do know that somewhere inside her, she recognized that all the good in her life came from God. She told me to count my blessings and that advice has remained steadfast in my heart for over six decades now. I think of nanny and I smile, knowing that she loved me enough to tell me a truth about life. When you are busy counting your blessings, you don’t have time to complain!

Count Your Blessings