Count your many blessings, name them one by one... Count your many blessings see what He has done...
I went for a walk in an alarmingly difficult effort to find a noodle shop that wasn't crammed full of hungry customers like a stomach lining with packed with butter. In my haste, and distracted by the rumblings of my own empty stomach, I nearly stepped into a lone little boy with big watery eyes teetering in his too many clothes and only one yellow shoe. I stopped. I picked up the missing shoe, still bright yellow despite the obvious wear, and handed it to the boy... whose grin of utter surprise and gratitude outshone the brightness of the shoe.
Blessings like lost yellow shoes.
I found a noodle shop undergoing renovation by two obviously new owners. It was deserted, typically a bad sign. I managed to completely fool the couple into believing that I spoke Chinese when all I really know how to do is order a bowl of noodles. As the wife dashed upstairs to make the noodles, the husband, a man whose eyes got lost in wrinkles and underneath a shock of dusty black hair every time he laughed decided to keep me company and carried on a conversation nearly entirely with himself as my only contribution was a nod of assent every time I thought I understood a word. When he discovered the truth about my Chinese fluency he retrieved two apricots from a ripped plastic bag and gave them to me to keep me company instead.
Blessings like apricots from a generous hand.
Belly full of noodles, I made my way to meet a friend for tea. Realizing that though I drank all of the soup from the noodles and some paper cups of hot water for lunch I was probably dehydrated... the expectancy of tea was welcome. Until she ordered. My Tibetan being infinitely better than my Chinese I knew immediately that she had ordered butter tea... Not awesome in the best of circumstances, this particular thermos gave off that mildly revolting aroma of sickly bland butter. Within a cup I was sure I wasn't going to drink more. Until my friend suggested to the waitress to take it back and add more salt. To my delight, a few additional teaspoons of salt being the difference between undrinkable and refreshing.
Blessings like gratuitous salt to bland butter tea.
The effect of the tea was drowsiness to my weary self. We were both so tired we were silly. I half moaned half laughed when I remembered that I had promised to go and teach a night class on English idioms to some former students... wondering if I could discretely pinch myself to prevent passing out at the chalkboard I wandered into the classroom amongst students I haven't seen all together in a year. The lesson began, the enthusiasm of the students was overwhelming and before I knew it the idioms were through and I was just telling them stories. Stories about places I had been, things I had seen, people I had met, stories that made me laugh and stories that confused me. At the end of each one I made for the door and was brought back to the front by a room full of imploring faces, hands with one finger raised, and lips which said "guchi guchi tell one more..."
Blessings like requests for stories and students with one finger raised.
The next morning I taught a lesson wrapping up everything we had studied about teaching this term. Closing remarks being motivational sayings and the assurance from my heart to theirs that they could be great teachers. The rumblings in my stomach portending an afternoon over the squatty, I took a breath and glanced up before declaring class over. What I saw was forty-one silent students whose desperation to believe the words of affirmation they had just heard was slowly welling up in their eyes.
Blessings like eighty-two watery eyes.
Sure enough my stomach went on hiatus for the remainder of the afternoon. With an hour until my afternoon class I made the imminent decision to cancel class or have my bowels cancel it for me. Moments after sending the declarative text message, two students from the canceled class knocked softly shyly at my door. One carried a bag of mystery fruit, the other a liter of sprite. They came in and sat with me for about ten minutes whispering that they were worried and that I should take medicine before disappearing softly shyly back out the door.
Blessings like soft knocks at the door and liters of sprite.
The truth is our Father blesses. He does it all the time. You couldn't count them even if you tried. It's only a matter of receiving.
