Count your blessings

This phrase drove me crazy when I was younger. I hated being told by my dad to count by blessings. Yes, I was grateful to have a bike, but I really did want the girly pink bike with white tires. And, yes, I was happy to have clean clothing every day, but I really wanted the cool clothes from Limited Too!

Well, if I my dad hadn't taught me to count my blessings before, I sure learned tonight.

After a very long day at work, a great workout at the gym, and a few good hours with new friends, I came home to sleep. I checked my email and saw one from my dad that immediately caught my attention. My mom totaled the Passat last night. Everyone is fine. Everyone is perfectly fine. But wow, that really scared me. Driving home from western New York with Chip and a friend, she probably fell asleep at the wheel. Less than 12 miles from home, and she fell asleep. According to my dad, she hit the curb, blew her tires, hit a few mailboxes, and ended up on the opposite side of the road. The airbags deployed and my mom sprained her wrist.

My first long road trip was with Devin. We were driving to Colorado. "Don't be a hero." If my mom said it once, she said it a thousand times. She told us to never be a hero and try to make it to the next exit, but always pull over. I can't say that I haven't attempted to be a hero at least a few times, but her voice is always in the back of my head. Her voice is also in every single one of my friends' heads. I always use her line. "Don't be a hero!"

We have all blinked for longer than we should. Just be careful. Yes, my parents literally just paid off the Passat, but mai pen rai. I still have my mom and my brother and my brother's best friend. I'm counting my blessings.