Maybe your mother used the expression that mine often did when I complained about something in my life that was not the way I wanted it to be. She would invariably say “count your blessings,” which was her way of saying that I didn’t know how fortunate I was. I didn’t appreciate that phrase then but, as I have lived my life, I have begun to fully realize the wisdom of those three words.

I am a person who finds it not just difficult, but sometimes impossible, to wind down. My nervous system is pre-set to overly sensitive, my energy levels pre-set to high. I dream of sitting on a beach and I last less than five minutes before I get restless and begin to ask “What are we going to do now?”

Yesterday I was lying on a massage table, a lovely gift both given and scheduled, by my thoughtful husband. The masseuse told me to just close my eyes, fall asleep and that they would wake me when it was over. For the full 90 minutes I tried to relax, tried to practice my yoga breathing, tried to clear my mind, tried to lie still without wanting to jiggle my leg or tap my fingers. Not so easy for me when the train of thoughts just won’t be derailed.

Then I thought about my mother’s words. I thought about counting my blessings. I thought about having been at my grandson’s birthday party the day before, about my granddaughter wrapping her arms around my neck and snuggling close. I thought about our healthy children, our growing grandchildren. I thought about the gift of a strong, enduring and joyful marriage. I visualized the faces of our friends who are family and I reflected on the privilege of having work that matters.

While calm never fully comes to me, those moments of reflection helped me to remember what matters, helped me to remember to be present, to be grateful and to appreciate my very full heart.