So I write about the three to one ratio. I write about seeking the light in the dark and choosing joy. And then the next day starts and it is hard. The gifts and the grace are so hard to see sometimes. And it is frustrating to say something and struggle with it so much. But that's how it is sometimes. We get a clear vision of who we want to be and how we want to live and then the opposition hits. And sometimes I just need to know that I'm not the only one. I need to know that I'm not the only one who can't seem to live up to everything I would like to be. That I'm not the only one who feels like a hypocrite some days... a lot of days.
So I keep putting one foot in front of the other. I keep counting the gifts, even though the language of thanksgiving feels awkward and forced. I keep hunting for the light out of pure discipline, because I believe in the power that Eucharisteo holds. I believe that the Joy of the Lord is my strength and that if I allow anything to steal my joy (even my own sinful nature) I am letting it steal my strength. And I sit in wonder at the fact that His mercy is new every morning, new every time I fail and there is always hope. There is always, always, always something to be thankful for and my moods do not define me. They do not need to control me. So I press on when I don't want to. I force a smile, and I keep moving forward. Because He is always good. He is always bigger than my feelings. And He is always worth it.