Thanks to...
I have this issue (OK maybe several, but let’s deal with one). Cecelia buys most of the gifts in the house. If you are related to me, and of course most of you aren't (and you were looking for something to be grateful for this Thanksgiving…), but if you were, then the gifts you'd be getting this Christmas would most likely be picked out by Cecelia. OK would almost certainly be picked out by Cecelia. OK, OK, would be picked out, purchased, wrapped and mailed by Cecelia.
I don’t know if this is how the division of labor works out in your house, but it is the one ordained in ours. It’s not that I hate to shop, though in general I do. It’s not that I don’t have taste, though in general I don’t. It’s just that Cecelia has the crazy idea that one ought to shop before Dec. 24, or before two weeks following a birthday. Nutty musicians.
The issue is this. What do I do when the giftee calls to say thanks for the gift that I never knew existed? “Hey Uncle Scott, thanks for the awesome cuff-links!” “You’re welcome,” seems ever so slightly dishonest. “What the heck are you talking about?” seems, less than edifying. I’ve settled on “no problem.” For indeed it isn’t. At least for me.
And I am always (honest, really) quick to give credit where credit is due. “Yes, your auntee has great taste.” And I ensure that the gratitude gets to the appropriate recipient. Like all lucky people, I get to bask in the reflected glory of gratitude to a good giver.
This is the thing about gratitude: it demands a giver AND a receiver of thanks. To give thanks well means to direct it at the one who deserves it. Can atheists be ultimately grateful? I don’t know. Maybe it makes sense to give thanks to Mother Nature, or to fate, or destiny. I’m not sure. I just know that I’m glad to have a sense that my life, the extraordinary gift of life and everything in it (including you), is a gift from God. I know that God picked it out, paid for it, and presented it to me. Consciousness of this fact is a blessed gift itself. I don’t deserve it, but I’m grateful for it.
On Thursday I’ll be giving my thanks to the source of all these good things. And God’s response to our praise and thanksgiving is not a lame “no problem,” but a granting of a renewed sense of his presence. As the Psalmist said, “God inhabits the praises of his people.”
I don’t know if this is how the division of labor works out in your house, but it is the one ordained in ours. It’s not that I hate to shop, though in general I do. It’s not that I don’t have taste, though in general I don’t. It’s just that Cecelia has the crazy idea that one ought to shop before Dec. 24, or before two weeks following a birthday. Nutty musicians.
The issue is this. What do I do when the giftee calls to say thanks for the gift that I never knew existed? “Hey Uncle Scott, thanks for the awesome cuff-links!” “You’re welcome,” seems ever so slightly dishonest. “What the heck are you talking about?” seems, less than edifying. I’ve settled on “no problem.” For indeed it isn’t. At least for me.
And I am always (honest, really) quick to give credit where credit is due. “Yes, your auntee has great taste.” And I ensure that the gratitude gets to the appropriate recipient. Like all lucky people, I get to bask in the reflected glory of gratitude to a good giver.
This is the thing about gratitude: it demands a giver AND a receiver of thanks. To give thanks well means to direct it at the one who deserves it. Can atheists be ultimately grateful? I don’t know. Maybe it makes sense to give thanks to Mother Nature, or to fate, or destiny. I’m not sure. I just know that I’m glad to have a sense that my life, the extraordinary gift of life and everything in it (including you), is a gift from God. I know that God picked it out, paid for it, and presented it to me. Consciousness of this fact is a blessed gift itself. I don’t deserve it, but I’m grateful for it.
On Thursday I’ll be giving my thanks to the source of all these good things. And God’s response to our praise and thanksgiving is not a lame “no problem,” but a granting of a renewed sense of his presence. As the Psalmist said, “God inhabits the praises of his people.”