Every morning I blink my eyes open. I lay for a few seconds, then squeeze them real tight. And thank God. For everything. My pillow, my blanket, the sun, the pile of folded clothes that needs to be put away, the new air-freshener in my car, my boys, my family's health, the box of Life cereal in the pantry… This list goes on. I simply start the day by expressing appreciation.

I remember doing this as a child as well. Except the list of thankfuls were different. I'd squeeze my eyes real tight, then thank God. For the sleeping bag I shared on the dirt floor with my sister. The rooster crowing, the roll of toilet paper under the bed, the cow sleeping in the corner of the room. This was our lives every other week.

My dad took a group of people from church to Mexico bimonthly. For years. My sister and I begged my dad to join him, and he relented when we were five. We drove hours to rebuild an orphanage in the most desolate parts of Baja, Mexico. My sister and I played with the children while the adults built a septic tank, bathrooms, and a barn. The barn was desperately needed as sleeping in the same room with a cow is as delightful as it sounds. And smells.

There's a single photo of my dad with his two daughters standing in front of the orphanage he helped build. And, no lie, the cow is in the background as well. We're wearing heavy jackets and the sun is just rising, his arms draped loosely around our necks. When I think back to this picture, I can't help but feel thankful. For my bed, for my life, for everything my father instilled in me. And this makes me squeeze my eyes shut every morning and appreciate life's most extravagant blessings.