Grocery shopping is not a chore for me. I love to cook and bake. My favorite section is the produce section because it reminds me of spring. The store also reminds me that, no matter how S.M. and I struggle to make ends meet, we are blessed.
Every night we eat a good meal.
I have gas in my car.
I have good friends.
My clothes are second-hand. That’s okay. They fit. I don’t live in upscale New York so it doesn’t matter that I wear faded jeans and a bright, clean tee-shirt to church.
I’m not living off a landfill or suffering beneath the weight of a caste system in some third-world country.
And the two cents to my name can go along way to helping those in poorer countries, or buy a coffee for a hurting friend.
So I really have no reason to complain.
I am blessed.