Thank Heaven for small mercies

One of the brothers said, “When I was in Oxyrhinchus, the poor came on Friday evenings to eat the love-feast. When they went to sleep afterwards, only one of them had a covering. He put half the blanket underneath him and the other half on top; but he was still very cold. When he went to relieve himself, I heard him grumbling and moaning about the cold and he consoled himself like this:

‘Thank you, Lord. How many wealthy men are in prison, sitting in irons or with shackled feet, so that they cannot even go out and relieve themselves when they want to. But I am like an emperor, I can stretch my legs and walk wherever I like.’

“I was standing there and heard what he said and I went in and told the brothers, and they were very edified to hear it.”

– De vitis Patrum, Sive Verba Seniorum, Liber V