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
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