The roads were deserted on Thanksgiving Day morning. The air was warm for this time of the year. The sky was clear, and there was sunshine on the nearly depleted trees where the remaining leaves had turned from golden splendor to brownish drabness, which reminded me of my own metamorphosis into midlife homeliness.
I was feeling peaceful and gently uplifted. This day was a reminder to count my many blessings once more. I thanked God for being with me all the time and all the way. I was grateful for the pleasant weather, the fresh air, and the abundant trees surrounding me. I was grateful for my car, which still served me well even though it was more than ten years old and had a leaking oil pan according to the guys at Midas. I was grateful that I had a reasonably decent job even though sometimes I felt tired of it and would have quit hadn't I remembered my bills, that I still had enough brain to keep up with all those pesky new technologies which kept popping up around like mushrooms.
Above all I thanked God for my wife and my darling baby daughter, who would light up a joy in my heart and a smile on my lips whenever I thought of them. While I was driving on the roads of suburban Atlanta my baby was soundly sleeping in Saigon half way around the world with her little pillow tucked under her legs instead of her head, true to her funny ways. My wife had sent me a message on my smartphone to tell me all that, so I was grateful for Viber as well.
In a word, thank you Lord. It's all your doing, I deserve naught.