Stop counting your blessings.
Yes, you read that right. Just stop. Stop counting your blessings; I think I’ve got a better idea.
I’m not averse to enumerated lists, mind you. Heaven’s no! I confess that I’m rather compulsively drawn to the lure of the list. I recently ran across a spiral notebook in a box of old diaries from when I was about 15, that was nothing but lists: lists of everything I’d eaten when I’d been on a diet, (which was always), lists of everything I’d spent (when I was trying to save my allowance for Joni Mitchell’s new “Court and Spark” record), lists of everything I’d borrowed (Diana Swift’s off-the-shoulder Indian print maxi-dress, which I still haven’t returned), and everything I’d loaned (most everything in my closet). There were shopping lists, homework lists and prayer lists. I even ran across a list of every “boyfriend” I’d ever had—it was alarmingly long for a fifteen year-old! Ha!
No, I love me some lists—I write a “to-do” one just about every day of my life—and at the very top of each one is this cryptic reminder: TIS. (I’ll decode that for you later.) Continue Reading
