Every year at this time we have the opportunity to explore the significance and power of gratitude, thanks to our American friends who lead the way with Thanksgiving. Like a key or a weapon or a secret password, giving thanks opens doors, shifts atmospheres and allows us to see clearly that blessings have, indeed, rained down on us and we are not as drought stricken as we might previously have believed.
Have you ever finally gotten what you have longed for or achieved a goal only to discover that the pleasure and satisfaction are fleeting? Not only that, but there is still a relentless longing for more? 1 Timothy 6 verses 6 to 9 says, “But Godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it. But if we have food and clothing, we will be content with that. People who want to get rich fall into temptation and a trap and into many foolish and harmful desires that plunge men into ruin and destruction.” Augustine famously wrote to the Lord in his Confessions, “You have made us for Yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in You.” We will keep longing for more, unsettled and prone to striving until we give our hearts back to their Maker. How rich we will be when we settle down, content, with our lot. Not lazy nor defeated, simply resting, satisfied, in the Father’s lap.
I think of Shakespeare’s ‘As you Like It’ where Duke Senior is banished to the Forest of Arden by his brother Frederick. He is followed by loyal courtiers and far from living a depleted, miserable life, they hunt for meat and pick berries and the leaves become their shelter, the moss their beds. Those men accustomed to fine living found the finest living of all when they were stripped of titles and benefits and forced into a freedom they never had when they were in power. Charles and Mary Lamb write in their Tales from Shakespeare: “and here the good duke lived with his loving friends, who had put themselves into a voluntary exile for his sake, while their land and revenues enriched the false usurper; and custom soon made the life of careless ease they led here more sweet to them than the pomp and uneasy splendour of a courtier’s life.” Sometimes less is more. A simple life is as much a gift as one that is glitzy, important and full to the brim with meetings and banquets and lots of things.
So do we just choose to be content? Is it mind over matter? I’m not sure, but it seems to me that sometimes contentment comes about when we are shown perspective through forced deaths-to-self. Duke Senior was forced out of his kingdom and only then, when he’d lost it all, did he realise how much he truly had. For me, becoming a mother has forced me out of delicious, solitary patterns of existence. Sleeping all night, having complete thoughts or uninterrupted conversations, writing in silence, going to the bathroom whenever I need to, exercising in peace, engaging in hobbies and running errands as and when I choose to are all things of the past. Where I lived expectant of naps and alone time and luxurious baths before, I am thankful when they do happen now but have quit holding my breath. Before children life was tidier, more ‘productive’ and I could think about myself a whole lot more *sigh*. My selfishness and entitlement are ever before me now and I have no choice but to acknowledge them. I have been banished from my small, quiet kingdom that revolves around me and have gained a world that is gigantic and unpredictable; pulsing with colour and texture and mischief and trust and laughter and innocence and unicorn slime and energy and nerf guns and teenage wit and exuberant joy. We are supposed to be like the little children and I can see why now that I spend my days with these small ones so fresh from Him. Matthew 18 verses 1 to 3 says: At that time the disciples came to Jesus, saying “Who is the greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven?” And calling to Him a child, He put him in the midst of them and said, “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like little children, you will never enter the Kingdom of Heaven.”
Instead of putting my own weary feet up I carry sleepy heads against my chest when they are tired out from playing. I stroke golden curls and kiss dimpled hands as I put little bodies down for naps. There are seldom quiet moments because we cannot seem to synchronise our down times in this family. I am there when they shout, “Watch me!” “Look what I found!” “Please help me!” “Let’s hold hands!” Their zest for life brushes the cobwebs off my eyes that were forgetting to see. When we bath them at night, we scrub off all the evidence of a day spent in the great outdoors where they led me beyond myself time and again. I am thankful that God blessed my womb and that these children have nudged me out of my wonderful room for one. The blank ceiling is not there anymore and stars peep down on us instead. Like Duke Senior in the forest, they have taken away some of what I thought was necessary, and given me, infinitely, more. For my children, I humbly give thanks.
So, sometimes we get forced into it. Maybe you were expelled from your territory and for a while you grieved. Now that you are outside the gate that once held you in safely, the horizon beckons and your lungs can finally take their full of fresh, country air. Your expulsion is probably your rescue. You will be okay! Maybe you had children and for all the joy and wonder and rightness of it, you found it slightly traumatic and wondered if you would ever recover. You will, indeed, and you will be the same lovely you but different and stronger. I cannot begin to pretend to understand where you were forced out of your comfort zone and shaken to the core – was it boarding school or illness or the army or loss of income or the death of a loved one or moving country or a broken friendship or an accident or mental health issues? I believe that whatever happened wasn’t meant to break you. Give us eyes to see and ears to hear and hearts that understand so that we might turn and be healed (Isaiah 6 verse 10) if that is necessary. If you haven’t seen it already, there is, most certainly, a new and promising way forward. There is contentment and much to be thankful for in this unfamiliar place you find yourself in.
And then there is also free choice. It’s the idea where instead of grumbling that you have ten plates to wash, you give thanks that your family all sat around the table eating together. Instead of being miserable about the clouds, be expectant for the rain that is coming. Rather than complaining about the early start, be happy for a job that calls you up in time to watch the sun rise. When we wield gratitude like a conductor’s baton we cease to be victims of our drab circumstances. We choose to write a better symphony in the air and all the musicians before us play their merry parts. Intentionally choosing gratitude takes practise but when we are thankful, the dull begins to shine. A little extra gets added to ordinary.
It’s a glorious November morning. The rains have begun and everything is washed clean here in Africa. We have left golden, dusty, sparse, dry Winter behind and in it’s place we have a spotless, sparkling, moisture-filled blue sky and lush green grass. Blossoms are blooming and fruit is swelling. Butterflies, dragonflies and bees fill the air with their spontaneous aerobatics display. I am thankful for summer time and thankful for life – breathe in, thank you, breathe out, thank you. May this be the beginning of a personal revolution where thankfulness puts everything into its rightful place and contentment levels lift the roof.
Prayer of Thanks
For each new morning with its light
For rest and shelter of the night
For health and food
For love and friends
For everything thy goodness sends
– Ralph Waldo Emmerson –
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