My favorite thank you cards
Long ago, I read a book by Barbara Kingsolver called the Poisonwood Bible. In it, a family travels as missionaries to the Belgian Congo in 1959. I remember that people of the village wanted to see what the family had inside their home, seemingly yearning for the possessions they had brought from the US. I remember thinking the narrators didn't have much; pots, pans, simple clothes, limited toys and a few personal belongings. Yet, after a tragic occurrence, the mother decides to leave Congo and starts setting all her family's items outside her door. It is then I realized how many *things* the family had that those around them didn't. The abundance and diversity of those pots and pans, toys, and clothes were not necessary for daily life in Congo, nor anywhere really. I was shocked by the realization that though the family seemed to have few possessions, they actually had plenty and neither the narrator nor I appreciated it until it was too late.
It's that realization that makes me re-examine my life from time to time. I look at my friends with huge houses, swimming pools, two cars and glamorous vacations and feel envy. I live in a two-bedroom apartment that does not have a basement, attached garage, (not that we have a car), or a den to be found. I yearn for a guest room so my guests don't have to share the room with two early-rising children. Of course, I appreciate our huge windows over-looking the Hudson River and the greatest city on earth (not that I'm biased or anything). The hours spent there counting boats, helicopters and kayakers with my children is precious to me. But I also need to appreciate that I have a two bedroom, period. That it is filled with books and toys, largely given to as gifts from people who love us. We have a kitchen filled with dishes and gadgets so I can spoil my children with waffles on the weekend. We have a refrigerator filled with food to be cooked and fretted over as I celebrate this Thanksgiving as a first-time host to my mother and eldest sister's family. I should be thankful that I have my mother here to help me cook the turkey using the same recipe she used for decades.
It's that realization that makes me re-examine my life from time to time. I look at my friends with huge houses, swimming pools, two cars and glamorous vacations and feel envy. I live in a two-bedroom apartment that does not have a basement, attached garage, (not that we have a car), or a den to be found. I yearn for a guest room so my guests don't have to share the room with two early-rising children. Of course, I appreciate our huge windows over-looking the Hudson River and the greatest city on earth (not that I'm biased or anything). The hours spent there counting boats, helicopters and kayakers with my children is precious to me. But I also need to appreciate that I have a two bedroom, period. That it is filled with books and toys, largely given to as gifts from people who love us. We have a kitchen filled with dishes and gadgets so I can spoil my children with waffles on the weekend. We have a refrigerator filled with food to be cooked and fretted over as I celebrate this Thanksgiving as a first-time host to my mother and eldest sister's family. I should be thankful that I have my mother here to help me cook the turkey using the same recipe she used for decades.
My Thanksgiving Day grocery shopping list.
I was looking for articles to guide me how to teach the kids--who are still so little--to be grateful and I came upon this: Teaching Kids to Give Thanks / 4 Dos and Don'ts for instilling gratitude in your kid. I liked the author's suggestion that we be grateful for intangible gifts such as: compassion, humor, companionship, and love. My children love their toys and books, but they are lucky that they have a dad with a hilarious sense of humor and a grandmother with a great skill for storytelling. They have an Abuelita who sings them songs and five cousins whose sense of compassion for their family and community is admirable. They have an aunt who flew to be my side when they were born and a grandfather with incredible patience for playing with trains. These are not gifts that can be bought, but gifts earned by being compassionate, kind and loving in return. That is a lesson which we can all appreciate.
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