I am just about finished with an autobiography.
It is a story about a woman who lived her life from age 11 in an "Iron Lung."
She was struck with polio in 1948 and lived until 2009.
I picked up the book because the author lived just down the street from where I sit.
She died just 7 months after we arrived in NC.
I pass her house each day on my walk.
The book has reminded me to be thankful for life
and for the automatic things that a healthy body does without one thought from me.
It also reminds me to enjoy each day that I have.
I am thankful for a body that is "fearfully and wonderfully made."
I am thankful for sustaining breath.