This year has been the year of living gratefully for me. I don’t know exactly how it began, but I suddenly found myself so incredibly grateful for my life. And the more grateful I became, the more I found to be grateful for. Case in point: earlier this month I got a rejection letter from an agent who had a partial of my novel. I cried, of course, and felt marvelously sorry for myself for several hours. But I didn’t want to indulge in self-pity (that itself is a miracle!), and so I prayed, and it came to me that I should think of things to be grateful for. Here’s what I came up with:

I’d had coffee the day before with a local author. If I’d gotten the rejection sooner than I did, I would have been a basket case when I met him. Three cheers for timing!

Said author offered to read the first two chapters of my ms and possibly pass them on to his agent!

Another friend of mine emailed the next day and said she’d been talking to her agent and he thought his colleague might be interested in my ms and suggested I send a query.

My kids were playing together in their room and for once weren’t arguing, so I could make dinner in relative quiet.

My husband fully supports my writing and believes in me and my words, which carries me on the days when I don’t. (One writer friend of mine isn’t so lucky; I can’t imagine I’d have the courage to keep going if I didn’t have Doug’s support.)

I have wonderful knives and pans, which make cooking a joy.

I have a gas stove, which also makes cooking a joy.

I could go on and on, because once I got started I couldn’t stop thinking of all the things I am grateful for! And it nipped that self-pity in the bud. Right now, I’m grateful for you, my friend, and your blog that reminds me to pay attention.