Thankfulness @ MindSay 
god
Irving Berlin's Count your Blessings was one of the songs last night and I confess I have done that when i could not sleep. Here is last nights A-Z of blessings:
A abigail
B bread to eat
C continued health
D democracy
E education
F funny husband
G girlfriends
H holly hedges
I intuition
J Judaism
K kitchen
L love
M material comforts
N neighbors
O olive oil
P Portland
Q questioning rights
R religious freedom
S Sillyness
T thoughtfulness
U understanding
V virtual relationships
W whirlpools
X xtapa
Y young people
Z zabaglione
We're all familiar with the glass half full / half empty metaphor, yes? Well, what is that about? It's about perspective. If one looks at the circumstance from the top, looking down, the glass will appear to be half empty. If, however, one looks from the bottom, looking up, the glass will appear half full.
This same principle is true in other realms as well. How many of us look at our lives and see a lack of some sort. Maybe we have bills that are unpaid. Maybe we have parents / children / spouses who misunderstand us. Maybe ... well ... there are any number of "maybe's". Maybe ... there is some big obstacle glaring at us. All we can see is ... this thing, this lack. We can cry about it, bitch about it, pray about it ... and most of the time, when we get up the next morning, it's still there.
There is only one way around it, over it, through it. We must change our perspective. If we're looking from the top down, all we're going to see is the emptiness. Somehow, we have to adjust our vision so that we're looking up.
For example, if our "obstacle" is money (or the lack thereof), it should be easy for us to re-position ourselves by thinking about the vast numbers of homeless in our city ... perhaps in our neighborhood. There is always someone who has less. In thinking about those less fortunate than ourselves, we should then be able to realize although we may not have all we want, we have enough. From this realization comes gratitude - a very productive attitude!
This same principle applies to just about every situation we face. We each suffer extraordinary loss, betrayal, despair, disappointment ... but what can turn these apparent negatives into something productive can be as simple (Hah!) as re-positioning ourselves so we're looking up instead of down.
It's not for wimps, for sure, and I imagine some of you will think this a simple-minded evasion of the truth. Gratitude is a lifestyle, not just a surface emotion or sentiment. It is the simple, yet profound apprehension of the fact that none of us is sufficient in and of ourselves. Does your livelihood involve production or service? Where would we be without the patrons of those products or services? Gratitude!
Lack has become a manipulative term in our culture, but it is also something for some reason, that we eagerly grab hold of. I mean, for those of us who struggle to pay bills, although there may be extra bills left at the end of the money, do we not still have ... ? For those with serious health issues, in spite of the struggle, do we not still have life ... hope?
There was a point where I actually began to make lists ... a list of what I lacked vs list of what I had. Guess which list was endless? Even though the "lacks" existed, they were certainly outnumbered, and outweighed in value by the "have's". My perspective changed. I'm working on making the change permanent. It's not always easy, but then ... which is a better investment of my time and energy? Working to satisfy the want, or appreciating this moment, this place, this day.
Food for thought. :)
~ B
A MEMORIAL UNTO ME
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| Exodus 13:3-10 The Feast of Unleavened Bread |
This is just one time that the people of God were instructed to remember things, which He had done for them, and performed certain rituals to do so. For after all, in this instance, they had something to celebrate, and that was their FREEDOM. They were freed from bondage and slavery, oppression and grief. They were a people in their own right, with their own leaders, who had their best interests at heart.
This year, we also have much to celebrate on this day which has been set aside to remember those who have gone before and paved the way for our freedom, often with their own blood and their own lives.
For every drop of blood that has been shed, for every limb lost, for every life that has been given, I give thanks. To every mother who has seen a vehicle arriving on your doorstep, announcing the demise of your son, still in the prime of his youth, I give a heartfelt cry of, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant.” To the men who trudged through desserts, and bog, through forests and minefields, to those whose courage was for my safety and that of my children, I laud you, and mere words do not seem to suffice.
Thank you that we have not had another air bomb in New York or anywhere else in this country from the same source since the time we have waged war. Thank you that the war fought on foreign soil means that we are safe at home. If there were a way to see this accomplished and keep you soldiers at home, that would be my heartfelt desire; but since there is not; we love you, we celebrate you, and we give you thanks.
And tomorrow, before my cookout gets underway, before I see my parents and enjoy a holiday in your honor, I will kneel before the one who bought my freedom with his own blood, and thank Him for allowing me to live in this wonderful land of the brave and the home of the free.
My natural inclination is to be what is technically called a "worrywart." I think that this comes from my ability to observe and ponder possibilities, mingled with my pathalogical fascination with perfection, topped off with a dash of cynicism, pessimissim, and klutziness. [However, my tendency to worry is often counter-weighted by a generous helping of idealistic visions, sprinkled with (what some might refer to as) "sheer dumb luck."]
I try not to worry, though. Whenever I discover my thoughts meandering (or zooming full speed ahead) down the path of Restless-Obsession-About-What-Will-Happen, I figuratively (or literally, as the case may be) shake my head and refocus. Once again, I surrender my ruminations and offer up words sprinkled with "trust" and "thy will be done." This usually lasts about a day. Or a week if I'm feeling particularly idealistic. Usually, however, it is only a few hours until I realize I've, once again, hopped on that unending worry carousel.
This is all lead-up so that you might understand the battle I had this past week.
In my last post, I mentioned the delight of snow. It was certainly a delight. There is nothing so fascinating as four foot drifts right outside one's window, and the unprecedented friendly familiarity of unknown neighbors as we all join together in surviving this crazy weather (which we did -- with loads of stories to tell around the Christmas dinner table). I believe I also mentioned that non-essential staff (i.e. everyone except for those who were on-call) were being sent home early. We were.
What I did not mention is that I don't get paid for those hours (and days) when I am not physically present at work. I had already accepted the fact I wasn't going to be paid for Christmas (or New Year's Day, for that matter), and had budgeted accordingly. However, I hadn't planned in two-and-a-half days of being snowbound.
Admittedly, I did enjoy the cozy atmosphere of being snuggled warm in my apartment. Living in such close proximity to a grocery store made it easy to get a few supplies for the baking I had wanted to do but wasn't sure when I would have time to get around to it (although I did flounder my way through the thigh-high drifts, hopping in the pre-made footsteps of those brave adventurers that had gone before, and managed to get the last 6-pack of large eggs before the rest of the world scooped them up. Apparently, if deliveries are halted, it takes less than three days for a grocery store to sell out of basic necessities, such as milk, bread, eggs, butter, fruit, and veg.) I was able to finish organizing my apartment and finally rearrange the furniture to the way I had wanted it a couple months ago but never had the time to move them. I talked to many people I hadn't heard from in a while (apparently being snowbound causes one to think of all those phone calls that have been promised but not made).
In short, I was quite productive, even though I relished the relaxing time to snuggle under a fleece blanket, light a scattering of candles, turn up the Christmas carols, and lose myself in a book or two.
However.
Throughout my enjoyment of being snowbound, there was forever niggling in the back of my mind the fact that I was not getting paid. That my car insurance would have to be renewed this month. That they are raising my rent next month. That this is Christmas, after all, and even though I wasn't spending a lot of money on presents, I was emptying the "for a rainy day" budget (in this case, it was "for a snowy day" budget).
A budget that had not taken into account a two-and-a-half-day deficit.
As much as I tried to convince myself to enjoy my unplanned five-day weekend, it was difficult when I wrote out a check for my utilities and sent it off in an overly packed mailbox that Friday morning. When I wondered where I was going to have to cut for next month's bill. When I wondered if my new savings account was going to see growth any time soon. When I wondered, indeed, if my plan to save a certain amount of money each month was going to be possible until, say, Spring.
But each time I caught myself obsessing and worrying, I shoved it away, muttering the "it's in Your hands," and "You've provided thus far, so why should I doubt?" mantra that would set me back on track. For a while.
By Sunday, I had achieved a sense of peace. Not complete peace, mind you, as the back of the mind was still busy calculating at any chance it could get. But I knew I would make it through. Perhaps I wouldn't start off the new year as I had originally hoped, but I decided I could maintain my determination to save and still enjoy the month -- and pay my rent.
After all, one of my managers had agreed to let me work this Saturday. That meant I would only lose an extra day-and-a-half (not including, of course, the already budgeted missing hours for Christmas and New Year's).
I could afford to miss a couple of days. It would just fall under that category of "the continual quest to simplify my life."
Then...
...this morning...
...I asked the manager to sign my pitifully small timesheet...
...and he informed me that he convinced the higher ups to pay for the snow days. The "real" employees were getting paid for Wednesday afternoon and a full-day Thursday because the company sent them home -- so he argued that I should get the same treatment. He then apologized that he couldn't get me a paid Christmas. But he tried.
And with that, I felt the urge to fall to my knees in thanks-giving.
It had been a long battle -- to surrender my concern about the future: my desire to establish a nest egg versus my desire to continue to pay my bills. But I had done it. By Christmas Day I finally obeyed my persistent reminders to enjoy each day as it comes, to seek the blessing and beauty of each moment, to relish the silver sparkle of the snow instead of focusing on the brown slush and black ice that remained.
And this was my reward.
Through no effort of my own, I had been given back what I had lost.
20 hours.
It may sound trivial. And after that first initial discovery, it did. Hindsight kicked in, mocking my struggle over the week to surrender my silly worry and the gentle triumph when I finally did. Why did you bother to worry? my brain laughed at me. Didn't you know it would it work out?
No. I didn't.
Instead, I trusted that no matter what happened, it would be sufficient for me. Instead, I fought to truly understand in this moment that I can be content in all situations. Instead, I fought to grasp a promise that there are plans to prosper me and not to harm me -- even when I have to convince my American brain that prosperity doesn't necessarily equate to monetary wealth.
Perhaps it seems silly to find a life-lesson over a measly 20 hours -- hours that I grudgingly admit I could live without.
But I am learning if I do not give thanks for life's little lessons...
...I am unable to appreciate, or even understand, those of greater magnitude.
For this is not merely a lesson in trust -- it is a lesson of gratitude.
When I wanted to grumble that I wouldn't put as much money into my savings as I would like -- I was able to be thankful I had enough in savings that I don't need to be concerned about debt.
When I wanted to grumble that I wasn't able to afford fabulous gifts for all my friends and family -- I gave thanks for the fellowship that came from creating little homemade items and the joy of knowing that no one makes better chocolate chip cookies than I.
When I wanted to grumble that I wasn't able to free my car until late Friday afternoon -- I gave thanks that I had an opportunity to meet and chat with neighbors I normally only pass by with a civil "hello."
When I wanted to grumble at the fact I spent three hours crawling along the highway due to Sunday's snowstorm -- I gave thanks that the slow speeds kept us safe and that we could celebrate a white Christmas.
A secret to a happy life is not how many zeros are attached to your paycheck...
...but how thankful you are to get one at all.
I was sitting down thinking last night, how was I going to make Christmas happen for my kids. Rob was out of work for nearly three months, so I had to dip into my Christmas savings to make ends meet. I havn't bought a single gift for my kids. Don't even get me started on Wal-mart... (evilcommunisticsonsofbitches)
I was hoping this would be a great Christmas, but it isn't looking so hot. I put up our tree on Friday. Most of my Christmas decorations have dissappeared (I think during our move last summer). Tree skirt, lights, stockings, garland, ornaments etc. My tree is put up, but still kind of bare. Anyway, the point is... I started watching tv, and this lady was on some tv show. Her house had burned down... all of her Christmas gifts, and everything she owned was incinerated and is now ash on what used to be her home. One of her 5 children was in the hospital with severe burns to 60% of his body. I stopped pity pottying about my own problems, and thought to myself... Wow... this is a terrible thing to happen to anyone... I am here, in a warm home, my children are healthy, and I have so many things that I should be thankful for. This story happened a couple years ago, she was talking about how hard it was to put their lives back together... the child that was severly burned is well, and still undergoing cosmetic surgery, but slowly and surely, the family is finally spending their first Christmas together in their new home, and everyone is together... She said, that is what she was thankful for...
I felt like I was lucky...to think I had nothing, and then realizing I had everything in the world that was of any importance. YEAH... I am wealthy afterall.
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