The other day I was going through the drive through (yes, I crave a giant diet coke now and then and it has to be a fountain drink). It was a sunny Chicago day, but only about 34 degrees and windy. As I gave my money to the cashier, who was dressed in a coat, cut-off gloves and had a red nose from the cold, I felt bad for him in my toasty sun-warmed car. He asked me how I was doing today. I gave the standard answer, “I’m good, how are you?” “Blessed,” he said. It made me pause. Then, as he gave me my change, he said, “have a blessed day,” and I drove to the next window.
It made me think. Just before I drove up to that window, I was thinking about all my troubles: I think I’m getting a virus; did we pay the mortgage yet?; this car is filthy — it needs a wash; how am I going to get all my work done this week? etc.
We live in one of the wealthiest, “busiest,” robust countries in all the world. Blessed? You bet we are. Most of us. And how many of us, despite all we have, complain that we want more? How many of us look around to help those who don’t have enough? And yet, I suspect there may be many of the “less fortunate” who feel more blessed than the average American does.
How do we feel blessed? It’s about practicing gratitude, not feeling so entitled, relaxing and letting things be less than perfect, loving our fellow humans. I was “blessed” just by going through that drive-thru and having the short interaction with the cashier. I learned something that day. And I’m hoping that others who went through this guy’s line during his shift stopped and paused as I did, just to say, “yeah. I’m blessed.” I can only hope.