I’m blessed. I didn’t really understand that until later in life. It came to me as I reviewed my life and realized I probably wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.
You probably heard the old axiom “count your blessings.” That’s what I did.
I’ve been married to my wife now for almost 32 years. I have two children and three step-children, and six granddaughters. My health is good. I can’t complain. These are blessings.
Life hasn’t always been easy, but I’ve managed to work through the hard times. And, my early life wasn’t very deserving of blessing.
I survived an auto wreck in high school. My draft number was 35 when the lottery came around and I had no student or other deferments. I ended up enlisting in the Navy. No, I did not want to go to Vietnam, but I ended up there anyway in 1972. I came home when many of my shipmates and friends did not.
I carried survivor guilt for many years. A therapist may say I still carry it.
I love motorcycles and riding. I especially like riding long distances, going places I haven’t been. Exploring our country. I survived two severe wrecks. On one trip, I left a motel in a small town in South Dakota about a half-hour before a tornado touched down.
When you look back on your life and see the events and accidents that brought you to the present, you have to ask: Is it luck, or is it a blessing?
I didn’t mature in my faith until later in life. I look back on the events in my early years I can only assign my survival to being blessed. Many times someone said something to the effect, “someone had a hand on your shoulder, son.” This after some horrendous event.
As I matured in my faith, I realized God’s plan for me, my purpose in His plan–however you want to describe it–is still developing. I say that because I know I have no idea. I just know I’m not done. His work in me is not complete. Still, I’m blessed.