Yesterday, as I sat in bed having my first cup of coffee of the day, after having done all my early-morning chores, I chatted with my daughter who was drying her hair. A bunch of residential students from her school were walking down to the day campus and I used it as an excuse to nudge her to hurry up. Then, spontaneously, I had a surge of gratitude, and I told my daughter about it:
“How blessed we are, living in this day and age where there’s relative peace. That we live in a country where there aren’t any bombs raining down our heads or snipers shooting through our windows, or famine leaving us dead in childhood. That even within this country, we live in an area of abundance and structure. That our kids can walk down to school and not worry about being kidnapped or killed, or washed away by some flood. That we have a home, with all working amenities, with cars and guards at our disposal, that we have money in the bank. How blessed we are that nothing untoward happens most of the time, that our families are safe and we have meaningful jobs to pass our day with. Never take uneventful, routine days for granted; they are precise pointers to how protected and blessed we are.”
She listened to my speech and smiled and kissed me and went to school. Then, later in the day, at work, I got my usual daily ‘Note from the Universe’ from Tut.com (you must subscribe to this, it’s wonderful) and here’s what it said:
You’re thanking me?!
No, Aekta. Sorry. I’m afraid you were misinformed.
You see, it’s me who thanks you, every moment of every day, for all that you are.
You have no idea.
Now if this isn’t an ongoing dialogue with my God, I don’t know what is.