When I was in seminary over twenty years ago, I drove a 1986 Volvo 240 DL. One day, it broke down. I got it fixed. This pattern repeated itself again and again.
Finally, one day I said, “You know what? You’ve broken my heart too many times. Love doesn’t live here anymore. It’s time we go our separate ways.”
I bought a bicycle. But it seemed like I was getting a flat tire every week.
One night, on my way home from the library, I got a flat tire, and then it started raining. That night, livid, I walked my bike home like I was walking a dog on a leash.
But when I arrived home—two hours later—I realized that despite what had gone wrong, I did have something to be thankful for—a warm room waiting for me, food to eat, a place to rest my head.
There’s always something to be thankful for.