From This I Was Saved

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My co-workers marvel at my memory, but I am horribly forgetful. Yes, I may recognize the hand-writing of a woman who I haven't heard from in seven months, but I'd forgotten to what extent I'd been saved from the terrors that are at the front desk. Of course I remember in general, but I confess, as time passed I've found myself wondering "It really wasn't that bad, was it? I'm a big girl, I've matured a lot. Surely, it wasn't such a big deal."

And then I had ten minutes to reacquaint myself with the many pressures that come with sitting at the reception desk.

And then a new surge of gratitude floods me as a person great in compassion takes over and lets me go back to the safety of my desk.

It's true... sometimes a taste of what you have been saved from is all you need to appreciate anew your liberation.

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