Periodically, I look back at my life accomplishments and failures and find balance wanting. Of course, during this time of year, when I am under strong influence to “ac-cent-uate the positive,” really black moods fall prey to a couple of realities. The first, a constant that has regularly batted the screwballs of depression out of the park for the past 37 years, is that when Tuesday rolls around, I’ll have opportunity to celebrate (again) what I celebrate anyway, any day during any year that I stop to think: My Wonder Woman loves me enough to stay my wife (it’s not my fault, really! *heh*)
The second booster is that I have–quite by fortuitous chance, I assure you–had opportunity to be instrumental in keeping a couple of the members of my family alive, once with CPR (my Wonder Woman) and once, with Son&Heir, by extracting a penny he was choking on. Crawling babies, shag carpet, loose change: not a good mix. *shrugs*
I find recalling those events and then looking at my Wonder Woman’s face does much to remind me that God has greatly blessed me, far beyond my due. (Then there’s the whole, “Well, I haven’t awakened in hell where I have, by all rights, earned a place,” thingy. Grace: what a strange and wonderful thing, eh?)