
Have you ever paused to count the numerous things you are blessed with? Not the big wins or milestones that make it to Instagram stories or LinkedIn feeds, but the simple things that fill your everyday life. Like the fact that you can get up and walk, that you can call someone and hear their voice, that there’s a roof above you, food waiting for you, and people who love you, even on your bad days.
I recently visited an orphanage for children with physical and mental disabilities. And I’m not going to lie, that day did something to me. It humbled me in a way I didn’t know I needed. It made me see, painfully clearly, how easy it is for us humans to always forget how blessed we are.
We stress over scars, dark spots, pigmentation and that one stubborn pimple that just won’t leave. We look at our reflection and sigh because our body doesn’t fit some made-up idea of being “perfect.” Meanwhile, there are kids out there who would give anything just to stand on their own two legs, to simply hold a spoon, and to move their bodies without pain. We get caught up in tiny imperfections while forgetting the miracle happening inside us every other second, a perfect heart that beats on its own, lungs that breathe without us thinking, eyes that let us see colors, faces, waves and sunsets and a brain that thinks and dreams big dreams.
At the orphanage, I met children who’ve never known life beyond those four compounds. While we roll our eyes about going to the same vacation spot again, they’ve never even had the luxury of that kind of choice. We throw mini tantrums over getting the “wrong” cake flavour at our birthdays (vanilla with lemon curd? Really?), while these kids have never even had a real birthday party, the kind with balloons and candles and people singing their name.

But here’s the thing that hit me the hardest: their joy. That unfiltered happiness that lit up their faces when we handed them the simplest thing, a coloring worksheet. The way they laughed when we blew bubbles and danced around. In those moments, they weren’t thinking about what they didn’t have. They weren’t limited by their disabilities or their circumstances. They were just kids. Laughing. Living. Being present. No complaints. No comparisons. Just pure joy.
And then I thought about us. How many of us have loving parents who’ve been with us, who’ve accepted us through every messy phase? Who didn’t walk away when things got hard? How many of us can step outside whenever we want, breathe in fresh air, make our own choices, and build a life beyond four walls? And yet, so often, we don’t see it. We miss the blessings in waking up in a bed, drinking clean water, eating until we’re full, wearing clothes we feel good in, and simply breathing without struggle.
We visit places like that for a few hours, feel proud of our “good deed,” and then go back to our lives. But for those children? That orphanage is their entire world. Every single day. They don’t get to leave when the visit ends. Meanwhile, we go back to our routine of complaining and comparing and wanting more. More experiences, more luxury, more perfection. But tell me, when was the last time you genuinely thanked your body for just working? When was the last time you looked at your hands and thought, Wow, thank you for everything you help me do every single day? When was the last time you smiled just because your legs can take you wherever you want to go?
That visit was such a wake-up call to me. A lesson in gratitude I’ll carry with me forever. Because gratitude isn’t just about saying thank you. It’s about feeling the abundance in everything you already have. It’s about respecting your body with all its flaws, for being the miracle that it is. It’s about holding your people a little bit closer and cherishing the tiny joys you’ve been given.

Honestly, every single person should visit a place like that at least once in their life. Not to pity. But to learn, to soften and to remind themselves of what really matters.
So here’s me reminding you: pause for a second, look around, and feel the blessing in the ordinary. The roof over your head, the meal that’s waiting for you, the body that carries you, the people who love you even on your worst days and the boring, everyday moments that are actually the most extraordinary things.
These aren’t small things. These are everything. And maybe, just maybe, if we all started seeing life this way, our hearts would be a little softer, our complaints would quiet down, our gratitude would get louder, and this world would feel just a little bit kinder.
Because at the end of the day, it’s never about having everything. It’s about seeing everything you already have and knowing deep down that it’s enough. More than enough. And if you look closely, you’ll see that the little things were never little after all.
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