Just Say It...

 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you...”

Sometimes I just have to say those words that way, three times in a row, in a rapid-fire manner, the words sometimes jubilant, sometimes infused with a sigh of relief, often both.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you...”

I come home after a long day at work; my husband offers to order a pizza...

”Thank you, thank you, thank you...”

I'm late for an appointment and a prime parking spot opens up in front of the building I was supposed to be in two minutes ago...

”Thank you, thank you, thank you...”

After four months of trying to get a tiler to install a kitchen backsplash for my new kitchen, I finally find someone else to do the work...who does a beautiful job...and offers to change out the nine electrical outlets to match the new tiles...all finished a week before Christmas...

”THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU...!!!”

A cleanly hooked big bass; a beautiful sunset; finishing a long knitting project with only six inches of hard-to-find yarn left to spare; good medical test results; being narrowly missed by an aggressive driver on the interstate – very different situations ranging from the inconsequential to the potentially serious...

”Thank you, thank you, thank you...”

I'd like to say the attribute of gratitude comes naturally to me, that I see the random gifts thrown my way every day and appreciate them for what they are – precious gifts to be thankful for. But truthfully, I often miss them or see them as something other than precious. There is a painfully familiar scene in the episode, The Reichenbach Fall, in the PBS series Sherlock where Sherlock Holmes is being honored for his detective work in recovering a priceless painting. Upon being presented with a small wrapped gift, he shakes it and correctly deduces its contents:

Sherlock: Diamond cufflinks....All my cuffs have buttons...

John (to the presenter): He means thank you.

Sherlock: Do I?

John (to Sherlock): Just say it.

Sherlock: Thank you...?

Like Sherlock, I sometimes fail to see the relevance or value of some of the gifts I am presented with as I go about my day. As Christmas approaches, the stress and busyness of the season has me grumbling about all I have to do, much of it revolving around the giving and receiving of gifts. Like Sherlock, I can disconnect from what I am given and am giving and miss the whole point of the giving and receiving. Fortunately, I, too, have a John Watson at my side, an inner voice from the Spirit of the living God who reminds me to just say it – “Thank you” – for the busyness of the season, for the cleaning and cooking and shopping and everything else that makes me crazy . And when I first hear myself say it, it does sound a bit like Sherlock's “Thank you...?” but as I internally repeat the words, the tone of them changes, and I'm brought to a place of acute recognition of what is being celebrated during this time of often frantic gift-giving...

The Gift...

...The God/man invading our existence as a baby. The Son of the living God coming to restore our relationship with His heavenly Father...

(“Thank you...”)

...The Savior of the world, born on this earth in a stable, coming to live like one of us, but dying for each of us, for our sins, all of them - even that reticence to be grateful - taking all our failings with Him to the cross and then taking us with Him into the new eternal life of His resurrection...

(“Thank you, thank you...”)

...The Gift of Christmas is a Person, the One Who knows me better than I know myself, and loves me lavishly anyway...

(“Thank you, thank you, thank you...” the words now jubilant, infused with a joyous sigh of relief...)

Feeling gratitude and not expressing it is like wrapping a present and not giving it.

- William Arthur Ward