Grateful for the Little Things

They say you're never really grateful for something until it's gone, but I was always grateful for Dad in general. I told him I loved him often and what he meant to me. I just never realized that I should grateful for all the little things. Because that's what I miss the most.
I miss the way his keys jingled when he walked in for lunch. I miss the high pitched way he would call "Sissy" with loud feet coming toward my room on budget day...time to pay for cell phone bills. I miss the way he would be hunched in prayer as the choir sang. I didn't know that I should be grateful for those things. But now I am. Now I'm trying to be grateful for the little things in every person.
When I find myself thinking "If only Dad were here..." He'd know what to do, what to say, how to help. And at that point, I sink into a state of depression. I go into "my life as fallen apart and everyone should pity me" mode. But then, I realize something. My life is still good. More than that, it's amazing! I am blessed with a mom who sings to wake me up in the morning, with siblings who make me laugh like no one else, with families in my church who have gone above and beyond the call do dusty to bless me and my family.  Even as I type, there's a godly man outside teaching my brother to shoot a gun. I am blessed!
There can be so much good in the midst of tragedy. Not only have a learned to be more grateful in my dad's death, I've learned more about myself. If he hadn't died, I never would've realized how much I loved to write, and never ever would've started this blog. I never would've grown so close to people in my church or repaired a broken friendship. I probably wouldn't have shared Christ with Mr. Dorico in Washington DC. If I could have my dad back, I would do so in a heartbeat, but I can't. So instead, I want to focus on the good that comes out of heartache. What satan intended for evil, God has used for good.