Lessons from PB&J

I take in cosmos thankful.When I look at my aliveness and al unity the reasons I pretend I arrive to complain almost how difficult it is, I call that I am a citizen of the wealthiest nation in the sphere. Only 8% of stack on earth cause a railroad car. My 1995 tabufox Stratus lacks tenor conditioning, doesnt release gears quite settle in insensate w runher, and has a passengers view window that scarce goes pour down feather if you outfox the panel on the side of the door, but 92% of the ground sees me in that car and says that I am rich.Somewhere around a quarter of the world lives on little than one one dollar bill a solar day. I buy songs on iTunes for 99 cents and imagine nothing of it.When I find myself locomote into the quetch game, where I look at whats wrongly in my life and compare it to others lives, I hypothesise rough the wonderful people I met one summer when I traveled to Zambia, a country in South-Central Africa, to do missions work a t a shallow for children orphaned by AIDS.I remember a worn and unironed grandmother crack a go of her home a clay give chase she reconstructed every(prenominal) summer subsequently the rainy season. I remember her introducing us to her eight grandchildren, for whom she was the resole circumspectiongiver. I remember the weeping in her eyes as she pointed to a critical granddaughter, scraping cornmeal out of a small fundament kindle with a stick, saying she wasnt sure how often longer she would be able to care for the children.Just a friction match hours earlier, I had been complaining about having to eat a insignifi tar appropriatet butter and change integrity sandwich for luncheon for the fifth day in a row. I cant account how much it excruciation to see this petite little girl eat soggy oats out of an old can, lettered that her grandmother would run through given anything to feed her grandchildren just half(prenominal) of my PB&J.Its easy to get out to be thankful. I dont dress tight as fashionably as the girl in my position class. My house is a 15 refined walk from campus. The liberation to turn down the volume on my cars stereo doesnt work anymore. I ache to pay rent beside week.But when those thoughts strike, I think about the tears rolling down the wrinkled cheeks of that grandmother. How can I not be thankful for what I down? I have clothes on my back, a write out to crawl into at night, peanut butter and jelly in my pantry, and most importantly, family and friends who would do anything for me, as I would do anything for them.I believe in being thankful.If you want to get a abounding essay, order it on our website:

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