Poems come from our inner pain,
Bleeding out and down the drain,
Pulling readers into our woe,
Chilling hearts like falling snow.

I will rebel against this trend
And bring my whining to an end
By listing blessings yet untold
While I am well and growing old.

First, let me thank the Lord above
For giving wife and children that I love,
And then for parents, growing old
Who gave me principles to hold.

And then for friends for staying true
Across the years and distance, too.
For work I've always found rewarding
And health to work from early morning.

For homes I've run to, needing rest,
And roads to travel in the West,
And opportunities to fly the distant breeze:
Canada and China, West Coast and Belize.

For clothing and for food in easy reach,
For education and for students to teach,
For restful nights and active days,
For knowing where to send my praise....

Forgive me, Lord, ungrateful as I often am,
And thank you, Father, once again,
For grace and mercy, joy and peace
And time to thank you for life's lease.
Impossible for me to e'er repay,
My thankfulness goes up today.