My back is sore and there is still more than half to shovel.

I find myself angry at the snow still packed to the driveway, causing the handle to jam ribs every few feet if my mind wanders, and snap at it, try to whack it to pieces

. . . but to no avail, and I'm forced to let the shovel go limp and the Spirit remind me to remember every little thing is grace,
and I can shovel and I'm not sick in bed,
and my nose is dripping because I'm outside in the fresh air but I don't have a cold,
and the snow is packed because my husband left for work early this morning,
and I'm clearing the driveway off so I can get back up it when I get back from having lunch with my sister,
and I have a car to drive that starts even in cold weather, and I'm shoveling the driveway of our house,
and this life is a gift.

I murmer thanks and mutter why-is-it-so-hard-to-remember-when-all-is-blessings.

Note to self: I need to start up my One Thousand Gifts list again, to remind myself of God giving grace and joy always.

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