It’s winter.

We have oranges.

“So?” you may ask.

I asked the same question when the Lord kept drawing my attention to the bowl on the kitchen counter.

I realized, as I peeled a huge navel orange, that my grandmother, living with her malnourished family in two thin-walled granaries pulled together on the frozen prairie in the 30s, would have seen these colourful globes on her table as a miracle.

I realized, as I pulled the juicy segments apart, that unlike my friend, who is now on tube feedings, I can eat oranges.

I realized, as I bit off a piece and the wonderful scent filled my sniffer, that unlike another friend, whose sense of taste has been distorted by chemo, I can taste oranges.

I realized, as I cleaned sticky orange juice off my fingers, that unlike a new Facebook contact, I can afford to buy a bowl of oranges grown in some semi-tropical climate and flown (in the sky!) to my grocery store in Canada. My medication costs under $2500 per dose and is covered by our healthcare. The same drug, at the same dosage, costs over ten times as much in her country and is only partially covered by medical insurance with extremely high premiums.

“So?”

So, there is always, always, something to be thankful for. I see it now.

Thank you, Lord!