I went for a walk today and was thinking: our local park really isn't that nice.

And as I walked by the park, here's what I saw:

Peewees playing soccer. One in full princess attire.

People playing tennis. Some competitive. Some could hardly keep it in the court.

Men playing basketball. Their dogs lazily watching from the sidelines.

Families having picnics.

A birthday party.

Cross trainers and sun bathers and people in love and in like.

I saw a lot of joy, a lot of fun, a lot of relaxation. I saw peace.

I saw people who have no fear of having their peewees play soccer in the park, of playing tennis, or basketball, or picnicking, or partying, or cross-training or sunbathing.

I saw life as it should be.

And I didn't just feel it, I saw what it means to be blessed.

None of these people can fathom what it would mean to live under constant threat of bombs or missiles, bullets or landmines. None can truly fathom famine or homelessness or terrorism. Neither can I.

When I saw the tiny princess tentatively kicking a soccer ball, I was suddenly flooded with such an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Gratitude that I was born at this time, in this body, in these circumstances, in this great nation. And gratitude for this most amazing of parks.

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