choosing to see

I must have sneezed dozens of times today, violently, and used dozens of tissues.  The insides of my elbows and knees now boast an itchy rash to match the one on my neck.  Since I'm waking up with red, seeping eyes, my contacts are on vacation until further notice, and my glasses, while far more attractive than the 17-year-old fossils they replaced, are rubbing my head where my head is not used to being rubbed.  My throat is raw from what isn't dripping out my nose, and of course no drippy nose would be complete without congestion to go with it.  The thinner skin on my face reacts to all the pollen by becoming puffy, sensitive, itchy, or all three.  Last night's sleep was interrupted not only by my various allergy-related ailments, but also by a terrific episode of RLS (restless legs syndrome:  if you've never heard of it before, be grateful).

In short, I am miserable.

But ... I am choosing my focus, again.

Here's what I saw, today:

tomatoes, ripening

that precious little face

old books, good books

Ginger the cat, and her new kittens

fragrance of paradise:  lemon blossom

farm boots and comfy crocs

sisters, sometimes friends

fresh duck eggs

Spice and her butterfly collection

Spice's nest and egg collection

terrarium made by Sugar

Carolina wren chicks, hatched in our greenhouse, in a bag of peat moss

"Open wide your mouth and I will fill it ... 

... you would be fed with the finest of wheat;

with honey from the rock I would satisfy you."

Psalm 81:10, 16

The beauty is there, and even my tortured eyes can choose to see.  The gifts go on . . .