On Sunday morning, I was running late.

I’d woken up groggy and overtired and hadn’t let my hair dry all the way before stumbling out of my building into the late November air with my bag slung haphazardly over my shoulder.

I was late and seriously in need of caffeine as I sped toward the drive through. Drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, I fidgeted and watched the too-few minutes slip by on my car’s digital display. I hastily ordered and wheeled my car swiftly around the corner. I was annoyed—looking back probably visibly so—as I waited for the car in front of my to pull away at a snail’s pace.

My window was already down, arm extended, credit card in hand, by the time I reached the double glass panes. So when the smiling barista turned and told me my coffee had already been paid for, I just blinked at her.

And, at least momentarily, all of my annoyances, my impatience and my petty stressors vanished. Because some stranger, probably the one in the teal minivan ahead of me, had reminded me the importance of practicing gratitude—even if it’s just for a free cup of coffee.Continue Reading…