Long ago, a neighbor wanted to see something that was tucked away in the corner of my garage. My car was in the way, so I moved it. I actually thought this as I pulled out, “I’m not really going anywhere, so I don’t have to close the car door. I can leave it open and keep talking to Pete while I pull out.” Where this logic got me is that the open car door hit the wall of the garage, giving me two insurance claims, one for the house and one for the car. Sheesh!
I recalled this incident recently when I was talking to someone about how to forgive yourself for having a fender bender. I said it could always be worse and then cited my experience. And that’s when I realized that “it could always be worse” is a kind of gratitude in and of itself.
I am a person who can find gratitude in many things. I am grateful that…
– My son and his family came to dinner last night
– Kroger had all the ingredients I needed for my dinner recipes
– Those new cookies I baked turned out!
– And everyone enjoyed them
– My son shared his joy by showing me photos from his recent trip
– I’m grateful that he was able to take such a trip
– And that he traveled and returned safely
– And on and on it goes
This new kind of gratitude, though, allows me to be grateful for negative things in life. If those cookies hadn’t turned out, hopefully I could say, “At least no one got sick from eating them.”
I like this!
This is the second time I have found a new kind of gratitude. The first time was as my dad lay dying in the hospital. I took a break from my vigil to go have a meal in the cafeteria. While I walked there, I overheard two doctors greet each other. One asked the other a simple question, “How are you?” The other doctor’s response was eye-opening. “I’m fine. Still able to take my meals upright.”
Wow! Who knew that was a criterion for health? But clearly this was a skill Dad no longer had. And so I learned to be grateful for all the things I can do today that I might now be able to do tomorrow.
New gobs of gratitude are fun to recognize!
As I think about the “it could always be worse” variant, a memory pops to mind of a time when my kids were little. We checked a picture book out of the library whose refrain throughout was, “Could be worse!” It had gorgeous bright illustrations on a black background.
A google search did not turn it up, but found a different kids’ book on the topic. It is evidently a retelling of a Yiddish folktale. Written and illustrated by Margot Zemach, the book is called “It Could Always Be Worse.” It is the story of a man, his wife, their six kids and his mother all living in a one room hut. With all the crying and quarreling, the man is going crazy, so he talks to his rabbi who advises him to move his chickens, rooster and goose into the house with the rest of the family.
When this does not work, the rabbi tells the man to move the goat into the house too. And when this doesn’t work, he tells the man to move the cow into the house as well. By this point, everyone is quarreling — even the chickens.
The fourth visit to the rabbi comes with the suggestion to move all of the animals out of the house. And we can just imagine how quiet and roomy and peaceful the house was with this change.
A review of this book calls its topic “relativism.” I call it finding gratitude in a less than perfect situation.
Two other thoughts come to mind when discussing a less than perfect situation. Let’s stick with the concept of the too-small-hut. I did not have punitive parents, but I often fear that G-d could be one and that He/She could say to me if I complained about my living conditions: “You want to cry, I’ll give you something to cry about.” Additionally, I have a lapel pin that says, “If you’re not happy with what you’ve got, imagine not having it.” In both cases, I’m one tornado away from learning to be grateful for my less-than-perfect hut.
I would imagine there are other new variants of gratitude to be discovered. While I wait for their arrival I will:
– Be grateful for still having the ability to exercise — even on days I hate exercising
– Be grateful for my house — imperfect in many, many ways — but perfect in an equal number
– Be grateful for the myriad little things in life — my computer, my ability to write stories, my audience who enjoys reading them
And be grateful for all the GIANT stuff — kids, grandkids and friends
It’s a good life, and I am many ways grateful.
