Thankfulness. It’s hard.
I’ve been doing far too much grumbling lately. It’s easy to think only of everything you wish were different.
When everything is changing and a move to the other side of the globe is imminent.
When you’re given a trial that you never anticipated and never understood until now, and it seems as though everyone is judging you for it.
When you’re given kindness in the midst of hardness and all you want to think about is the hardness.
When all you want to focus on is everybody else’s faults.
In times like these, it’s easy to forget, to see only the small thorns in the midst of glory. And yes, thorns are still thorns—they’re poky, and they hurt. No one wants to keep walking when every step rubs blisters raw, even in the midst of the most glorious scenery.
But if you do keep walking, keep feeling the poke of the thorns, the blisters will turn into calluses and even the most obstinate thorn will become dull. And the beauty will still remain—the beauty of adventure, of friendships, of relationships, of character shaped and molded through trials.
No one’s promised an easy life, where beauty can be taken—stolen, almost. What we are promised is a beauty that will never fade, a glory that cannot be dimmed when we’ve fought through the trials and the pain of the blisters. So be thankful for your thorns—they’re leading you to heaven.