My living room has beautiful big picture windows facing two directions, allotting me a full view of the neighbour’s front gardens to the north, and the constant comings and goings on the street in front of the house. Lying on the couch with my morning cup of tea is how I like to greet the day.
On Sunday mornings, the rush of traffic is replaced by clusters of runners, with their long, sleek bodies, puffed out reddened faces, and self-satisfied grimaces.
“My wife had CFS,” a man once told me, “but now she runs marathons.”
It is hard for me to believe. The distance between my own physical capabilities and these weekend athletes far exceeds any race they might run, the copper-coloured legs of my sidekick walker remind me.
Maybe wheelchair races, I chuckle to myself.
Now that my life is confined to the four tiny rooms on the main floor of our home, I have new perspective.
I cannot remember a time when I did not feel lacking in my life – not enough hours in the day, not enough help, not enough money – but the truth is, in retrospect, I always had exactly what I needed.
Today, I do not have the legs to carry me swiftly on my way, nor do I have the energy to aspire to such feats, but I do have a home that I can easily navigate, surrounded by the endless beauty of Nature, and friends and family that truly care.
Abundance, I am discovering, is an attitude, not a state of material wealth. It comes with the recognition that life is sufficiency, not lack.
(Note: This passage originally appeared on One Woman’s Quest in October of 2014. The house is gone now, of course, replaced by even smaller quarters, but the message still pertains.)