I'm not a fan of the taste of the water from the sink, so I grumbled a little and then made some tea.
I got my tea and sat down to work on some homework, when an image flashed in my mind. It looked a little something like this:
All of a sudden I began remembering the tiny little hands at Jireh Orphanage that filled up these yellow jugs of water for everyone in their "house" (I'm not entirely sure that I would consider their tiny little cement buildings a house, but they did, so we will call it that). The cistern that collects rain water had gone dry and this was all they had to get fresh water. Each jug took about forty five minutes to an hour to fill, and there were over 200 children that needed water to drink, bathe, and cook.
Since when did I become so spoiled that I can't even drink a glass of tap water?
And then...
Yesterday morning I was eating a piece of bread that had gone slightly stale, and in my typical picky way I made a look of disgust and got ready to throw it in the trash.
Just as the slice was about to meet its doom, another image flashed through my head.
I don't have a picture, but I can tell you the story and I think it will be just as good:
While still in Uganda last April, we had spent the entire day walking at Bethany Village. When we made it back to the mainland, we grabbed our sandwiches that we had packed and we devoured them.
In the bottom of the bag were two pieces of bread. We hadn't had enough meat for another sandwich so we had simply put mayonnaise and mustard on it, incase someone got really hungry.
The kids from the village played around us as we ate, but one little boy sat a few feet away just staring.
As we finished our meal, my friend got ready to throw things away and I grabbed the extra pieces of bread with mayonnaise and mustard and I motioned to the boy.
His eyes lit up and he came flying towards us.
He'd been waiting for a bite, and now all I had to offer him was two pieces of bread with no meat.
I kicked myself for not offering him my sandwich, but he didn't seem the least bit upset. In fact, he grabbed the bread, bowed his head, and ran off.
I thought he'd run off and scarf the bread down, but what I saw, instead, is something I will never forget.
The little boy ran over to his friends and starting dividing up the bread so that they could each have a piece.
They all jumped and giggled with joy and looked over at us, smiling and waving and thankful for a few pieces of bread.
Since when did I become so spoiled that I need to throw away a slightly stale piece of bread?
Today, I'm choosing to be thankful for the incredible blessings that have been laid in my lap. How can you not be thankful when you remember the tiny little faces like these that were thankful for so little:
