I don't remember the first time I heard the word "blessed".  Funny thing is, the full meaning didn't come to me in church. It happened as I got older. It happened as I became a husband, a father, and a leader.  Only then did I realized what it really meant.  As a kid, I thought being blessed meant getting something.

A new bike. A good Christmas. A steak instead of vegetable soup.

The older I got... the more I realized I had it backwards.

Since I was a child there have been many who influenced my life.   My father-in-law, Shayne Moody, was one of those men. 

He said this and it stuck with me, 

"I'm not a rich man, but I am richly blessed."

The first time I heard him say it, it wasn't some great revelation. I'd just never heard anyone describe life that way.

Today...

I understand it more than ever. You see, I grew up in a house that didn't have much. At least not by the world's standards.

I can still remember stepping off the school bus in the afternoon. I can remember the dust hanging in the air behind the bus. The smell of the exhaust. Sometimes the smell of goldenrod growing along the road.

But stronger than all of that...somehow...I could smell supper.

Pork chops. Fried chicken. Pot roast. Chicken and dumplings.

That usually meant it was the beginning of a new month. By the end of the month, things looked a little different. That's when Mamaw would make her vegetable soup.

Nothing fancy.

About a pound of ground beef—usually that 70/30 or 80/20, because those were cheaper. A couple cans of Veg-All... but never the kind with celery. She knew I didn't like celery. A can of tomatoes. A little tomato paste. Salt. Water. Boil.

If there was enough left, we'd eat it the next day. Sometimes the third day too.

Truth be told...day three might've been the best.

Funny enough, homemade sweet tea is the same way. I say homemade because I honestly don't remember anybody buying sweet tea back then.

Matter of fact... I don't even know if you could.

Anyway... After the soup was gone, we'd have macaroni and tomatoes. Add a little sugar and it good to go.

Then it might be cabbage and sausage. Sometimes she would have carrots added. In my mind's eye, I remember it being Conecuh sausage, but knowing Mamaw, it was probably whatever was on sale.

Some of you may know this but cabbage is better the second day.

The smell when you first opened that cold Tupperware... Well... Let's just say it took a lot of faith before it took on a a lot of flavor.

As a kid... I wasn't excited about any of that. Not even a little.

Today, I almost choose those meals over a steak. Not because my taste buds have changed. Because my perspective has. Looking back, I realized something.

There was plenty of lack.

But somehow.....

Mamaw never let me grow up with a poverty mentality. She stretched what we had. She made sure everyone was taken care of. And somehow, she made what little we had feel like enough.

Years later, Shayne gave words to something I'd been seeing my whole life.

I've adopted my that motto as my own:

"I'm not a rich man, but I am richly blessed."

Being blessed has very little to do with what's sitting in your bank account. It has everything to do with recognizing God's fingerprints on ordinary days.

Maybe that's why, before daylight each morning, I try to remember what He's already given me and thank him for that

...before I start asking Him for something else.