[Medusa]

At least once a day, I wiggle my toes and give thanks that I can feel my feet and am not in a wheelchair as a paraplegic.

Sometimes more than once a day, I am thankful that my body works mostly the way I want it to.

Many times a day, I am thankful for having a job, for feeling safe, for having people who love me.

Often, I am thankful to know who I am as a woman and what my heart is about.

Giving thanks for very small things gives me an inner joy that reverberates loudly when I am having pity parties with myself.

There is a little story that I sometimes retell myself to help me remember my joy:

When I was 16, I worked at a dairy bar and we always had a bunch of strays dogs and cats around the back door.
One day, a very pregnant beagle came up by the back door and was obviously hungry and homeless. She was covered with fleas and was dirty as hell and stunk to high heaven.
I have her a hot dog and watched her trot off happily in the rain toward the open field behind the restaurant.

The image of that dog with biggo floppy ears trotting happily in the rain with a hot dog hanging from her snout reminded me that nothing I have ever been through is the same as a homeless pregnant dog in the rain scrounging for food. Even that dog was in survival mode.
Sometimes survival mode is all we've got.