One Sunday in September,
I was standing next to homeless woman named Louise Thomas...or who I remembered to be called Ruby, we were up at the altar as September birthday celebrants.
As the priest was blessing us, all I could hear her say were the repeated words, "Thank you Lord so much."
And when I remembered all the times I have seen her beg on the streets for help, I was astounded by the profound faith she had.
There I was, standing so nonchalant about my birthday,
there I was so insecure about feeling blessed for my own existence...
and here she was, simply thankful for another year to live, despite how rough it is for her everyday.
How is it that she is more appreciative of the life she has been given to live, when I myself am so bitter about living?
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