There's a lot going on in the world, much of it scary, some just awful. After a really hard day last week, I sat down to read a recent New Yorker, and found this wonderful article (sorry that only the abstract is posted.**) by Roger Rosenblatt about the death of his 38-year-old daughter. I know, it sounds like it's a downer, but Rosenblatt and his wife are helping to raise their three grandchildren, who range in age from 23 months to 7 years.
This is an article about raising children, grief, loss, growing, living, you know, the stuff many of us live with all day.
And one sentence jumped out at me: the advice from the dead woman's Filipino nanny. I post it as a jpeg because I'm also posting it above my desk:
For some, this is a time of sad Christmas memories, the review of a tough year, or fear of a tough year ahead. At times like this I'm very glad to be reminded to quietly, humbly, put my finger to my lips and count my blessings.
**Hey New Yorker! You think only your paper subscribers are going to read you online? Please.