Much-much, oh, ever so much-much thanks.

“Don't grumble! Don't stew! Some critters are much-much,
Oh, ever so much-much
So muchly much-much more unlucky than you!” (Dr Seuss, “Did I ever tell you how lucky you are”)

Oh give thanks to the Lord, for he is good, for his steadfast love endures forever! (Psalm 107)

It has come to my attention that I am a grumbling critter. Having always enjoyed having an excuse for a good moan, it is since being in France that my tutting, sighing, whingeing behaviour has been taken to a new extreme; with the most recent cause of complaint being of course the snow (and his friend the bitter cold). Also up there on the list has been boredom derived from too little work, swapped occasionally for the fatigue derived from doing too much, with the irony of this showing how easily I find a source of complaint.

On Thursday evening I volunteered at a Christmas party hosted by a local organisation that provides temporary accommodation for asylum seekers. The 13 families currently living at the centre enjoyed a meal, dancing and presents for the children. The joy they derived from simple food, warmth, company, and a convivial atmosphere makes me question my discontented attitude. Compared to the sort of some, my perceived woes are trivial. And standing next to my reasons for joy, I think its time to stop stewing and start giving thanks.

Things I am thankful for today …

1. My new lodgings are pupil-free, with sufficient light…. not to mention right at the top of a Chateau.

2. I have a home on this earth that is not going anywhere, and its 5 days and counting until two weeks in its comfort.

3. I can receive emails that mean I am up to date with all the crucial day-to-day details.

4. I have made new friends, with people I never would have even envisaged meeting.

5. I have a handful of motivated pupils that, with an enthusiastic “good morning” in the corridor make the battle against apathy a little easier.

7.  I get to indulge my geeky pleasure of learning new words on a daily basis.

I could go on, and I think I still have some way to go before my cup is half full. The good news is that my number 8 – that I am in receipt of the love that endures – does not change with season, country, or even when I fail and have a good moan. This grumbling critter is still loved. For that I am thankful.