Happy Sunday. I wish to add a little more to what I shared last week, since technically, it's still Thanksgiving Weekend.
As I was about to speak in church last Sunday, I looked out
at the people in the pews. Some of them I’ve known for a few years. Some are
new move-ins. I put my reading glasses on to look at the pages before me and
saw them with a different perspective. They were the same people, same
families, same clothes, in the same seats - yet with my lenses on, I saw them
differently. On and off, blurred and defined. I realized, seeing that we are
abundantly blessed is a similar process. It’s all how we see our circumstances.
I began my talk
with this sudden realization and opted to leave my spectacles on my nose,
telling my listeners what was happening with my glasses. Then I said to them
that there is so much to be grateful for. Psalm chapter 118 verse 1 says, “Give
thanks unto the Lord.” For instance, we can be angry that roses have thorns or
grateful that a thorn bush produces flowers.
About 80 years
ago, there were two sisters: Corrie and Betsie. They were thankful for, of all
things, fleas! At the time, they were imprisoned in a concentration camp. Most
books were confiscated. They even had to hide their scriptures! Those Bible
verses were written on playing cards and hidden, because the “offense” of being
caught with a Bible meant beatings and less rations (if you could call a bit of
stale bread, dirty water, rotten meat or gruel with rat droppings food). They
could have even been executed. As a result of the flea infestation, they were
spared an inspection by an otherwise fastidious prison matron.
I’m grateful for
simple blessings like indoor plumbing, my own shower and my own toilet. I am
even grateful for McDonalds. I’m what my
dad called a ‘Heinz 57” kid. My dad’s people
were pre-Revolutionary War, European and Mixed-blood Cherokees. My
mother was born in Germany. When I last visited Europe at the age of seven, my
grandmother and aunt lived in apartments with shared toilets down a hall. What
could be loosely called “toilet paper” was brown and stiff, like shopping bags.
Oh, and the toilets had no seat. They were mere holes in the floor attached to
pipes. Even at the age of seven, this was mind-boggling for an American child.
Also, the food was strange to me. After several days of picking at what was put
in front of me and refusing to eat, my mother thought I would starve. My dad
and mother asked a US soldier (who risked punishment) to sneak a hamburger out
of the commissary for me. For three weeks I ate mostly bread, carrots, and
simple things -- and I grew to love grape juice while there. If I’d liked
McDonald’s before that trip, I was nearly obsessed with their cheeseburgers by
the time I got back to the states.
Likewise, I am
grateful for clean drinking water from a tap. In some countries, the women and
children carry buckets to streams that are miles way. Sometimes there are
cattle wallowing in the same water. Carrying the containers back to their
simple homes is backbreaking work involving a yoke balanced across their
shoulders. Then the families wait for the mud to settle at the bottom of the
buckets. Although the liquid at the top
might look clear, in the water there are worms, flukes and germs that can sicken
and kill people. Even then, these villagers grateful when the streams flow.
As stated previously in this blog, I’ve had two major accidents in my life and a multitude of little wrecks. I was grateful to come back from the multi-vehicular wreck in which, according to witnesses at the scene, my head went through the window of a pickup truck. That was 29 years ago. A counselor reassured me that it was unlikely to happen ever again. He urged me to be less hypervigilant. But guess what? I was rear ended a couple more times, and then nearly 14 years ago, my family and I were in the deadliest trainwreck in Nevada’s history. People died in front of us! As we left the train cars, a billowing, intense fire consumed the section we'd just left.
I can either lament that we were
injured and traumatized, or be grateful that we survived. It still took effort to
heal. The Lord spared our lives, but I had to make an effort to come out of it:
with prayers, physical therapy, yoga, massages, and counselling.
By the way, our
luggage was consumed in the fire we escaped. Collectively we lost almost
everything we’d packed: our clothes
burned, a library book burned, my laptop burned, and yet my daughter’s
scriptures were not burned.
In the course of
recovery, the best counselors urged me to keep a gratitude journal where each
evening I’d write at least five things I was grateful for. Then I thanked my
Heavenly Father for those blessings. My therapists urged me to see the bright
side of all my trials.
To illustrate, in
the classic movie, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, there’s a scene where Mr.
Smith’s girlfriend says she envisioned a tunnel and every time she’d come out
of that tunnel and into a bright new world. She appreciated the beautiful
things she hoped to see all around her. Could we all make an effort to see the
beauty in the little things all around us? Thankfulness is appreciating
abundance and not dwelling on the darkness we’ve left behind; it’s looking at
the new things set before us. To look back on the tunnel, in my case, only led
to further depression. To simplify it down to its essence, Jesus can be our
light at the end of the tunnel.
Recently
Hurricane Helene Ravaged the Appalachian Mountains and their citizens. The
deluge washed away homes, businesses, farms, and entire communities. In many
cases, all the survivors had were the muddy clothes on their backs. That’s just
one of the few times in recent American history that our citizens actually
“lived” Timothy verse six, chapter eight. How can anyone have gratitude in that
situation? For some, the alternative was being exposed to the elements in
complete and stark nakedness. Some districts did not even have potable drinking
water. Many towns were remote and unreachable by truck or even helicopters.
The people were grateful for mule teams that brought in basic supplies and
tents for shelter.
To paraphrase, Timothy verse six, chapter eight says,
“Godliness
with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into the world, and we
can take nothing out of it. Yet if we have food and clothing, we should be
content with that.”
The people in my
church have said that if you are prepared you won’t have to fear. Like the boy
scout motto, it’s good to be prepared. However, what if you lose your home and
family along with all you’ve set aside for sustenance? Some homes in the hills of North Carolina
were just gone. Other people were grateful that their houses were spared, but
barely, and even then, in many cases, they didn’t have clean water.
So, what can we
do to help our “brothers and sisters” in similar situations? People from my
church volunteered their time to clean up parts of North Carolina where some of
my distant family members were born. Preparation is the first step. When that
isn’t enough, love, kindness and the ability to assist will help us all keep walking in
the right direction.
We can show our
gratitude for our abundance by choosing to share. Some of us can help by
donating to reputable organizations that build water tanks and purifications
stations in Africa and South America. If you message me in the comments, I can
list a couple for you. Then there are the Giving Machines that will be placed
in malls this holiday season. They are large, red, vending machine-like kiosks.
Yet, what happens
if someone we know and love has died in one of these recent tragedies? Their
suffering is at an end. That is a simple truth. Isn’t it a blessing that the
ones we loved no longer struggle to breathe or feel pain? It’s hard to feel
grateful for that stark reality, but it’s a blessing in its own way.
What if we die?
We might find ourselves wandering in the valley of death. We might be consumed
by the darkness around us, hoping to find a light to guide us. If we see that
glimmer before us, we must follow the light. Know if we die, we die in Jesus.
That is a simple blessing and yet in its simplicity, it is profound.
For that I am
thankful. Amen.
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