Each morning I fill and boil the faithful kettle that makes my cup of tea without complaint.
I take for granted that it will be there and that it will work.
But really, I am very grateful.
If I had to rub two sticks together to make a fire and mine some iron ore and learn how to make it into a pot and fetch water from the nearby creek and pick tea leaves off a bush and dry them and dig some clay from the earth and make a mug each morning to make my cup of tea, that would be very tedious.
I can forget how much I have. I can fall into the trap of assuming that I deserve all these things around me. Take them for granted.
I’d like to remember how grateful I am for the things that make my life so comfortable.
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