I heard a story tonight.  It was told to illustrate a point.  In many ways it was simply a parenthetical thought, but after hearing it, I could think of nothing else.

A woman at our church had gone to India to work with a parachurch organization that provides material goods to meet the specific needs of individuals living in India, an extremely impoverished nation.  One such need came from a woman who had been debilitated by leprosy-her request?  A cot.  Why?  She slept on the ground and mice and rats were eating her fingers and toes because she could not feel anything.  The woman was given a cot, but what touched me most, was hearing of her beaming smile and hospitality when she  invited these “missionaries” into her home (a cardboard shack with a padlock), to express her gratitude.

I could not hold back the tears.  I am ashamed that this contented posture of thankfulness is foreign to me.  I can’t even bear to imagine her life, much less live in such circumstances.

I found myself distraught and despairing the other day over traveling all the way to a store (a whole 9 miles) only to discover that the item I had ordered had not yet arrived…I do not know true hardship, and yet I am often discontent. 

I have been showered with so many blessings, but somehow I think I “need” more.  I live an absolutely indulgent life, but I am poor.  Like this Indian woman, may I find the richness that stems from genuine gratitude, irrelevant of circumstances.