Wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving.

Friends, I can't even express how much this gratitude keeping has been changing me. There is something to be said about planting the right seeds, and knowing that they can only produce the fruit by which they're called.

If I dig deep holes and scatter tomato seeds, I'll reap tomatoes.
If I salvage the core and plant the small black seeds of an apple, in years to come I will find myself under the shade of an apple tree.
If I swallow bitterness and allow it to fester, I will reap bitter fruit.
If see only the things which bring sorrow, pain, anger, then I will only bear their fruit, the trees of hatred, bitterness and sallow cheeks.

Even research shows this. Happier people live longer. I'm not Pollyanna. I find the dark lining more times than not.

Just the other day, I felt the familiar tug to throw a wonderful pity party. The kind where I find good reason to toss blame at all the people I feel "owe" me something. The ones who "ought to know better."

But this list lingers ever so close. It's harder to throw stones when you only have tiny seeds in your hands.

97. Hot porridge, made with rich butter, brown sugar and raisins.
98. A snowy February morning, where the only sound is the light dropping of heavy flakes.
99. Down blankets, that keep grown-up feet and baby feet cozy warm.
100. Peeking in to my daughter's room to see if she's awake from her nap to see her sitting quietly, "talking" and imagining her own world, conversations and stories.
101. Realizing in Christ's lineage there are so many screw ups. He valued the broken and beat-up so much, that His family tree is shattered, twisted and covered in blood and sin.
102. A tiny snowman shaped with tiny hands.
103. A recipe for almost bad bananas and kiwis. I love having "nothing" in the house and still being able to produce an edible dessert.
104. Playing pretend with Mads.
105. Having a full house again. With the barely surviving and the thriving.
106. Paintings that move me to tears.
107. Stories and honesty that moves me to tears and my knees.
108. Homemade Indian Food. It's not the real thing, but it's almost, kinda, nearly there. Ok, it's not close at all, but it's alot cheaper. Is that ok?
109. I know I say this a lot, but I mean it — paint covered hands. Love. It.