A few people have asked if the post I wrote on gratitude/Thanksgiving last week was autobiographical. It was. I don't remember a lot of the details like exactly how old I was or that I ate oatmeal for breakfast that day. But the rest was true. And, in a weird way, I'm thankful for all of it.
When I was younger and still living with my parents my dad and I used to have a major disagreement with my mother. We used to say that "life is what you make it." She believed that "life is just what gets handed to you." Both sides of the argument were made with conviction and emotion but neither side was swayed.
I still believe that life is what you make it. I might get handed a load of crap – like no money for turkey dinner, a furnace that doesn't work, a cancer diagnosis or even something as silly as a dog that wakes me up at 5:04 on Thanksgiving morning. But how I deal with any of it is a choice. It's still crap but I get a say in how it's ultimately expressed.
Being handed a box of food on Thanksgiving morning could have ended with my humiliation and teenage angst. But what I really learned was empathy. I've seen both sides of that coin.
I've never been much of a holiday person. It goes against my nature to think that thankfulness is best expressed at the end of November, over a plate full of turkey. I hate that Christmas has become one long marathon of "he who spends the most therefore loves the most and is thereby declared the winner."
That same Christmas, the one that followed our meager Thanksgiving, was sparse. Where I had gotten clothes, toys and spending money in years past, that year there were two gifts that I vividly remember. I got a bottle of Rose Milk Body Lotion and a figurine of a bunny rabbit. Both gifts had come from the small town pharmacy. At the time, I was embarrassed that my father had shopped for me at the drug store and had spent less than $5. As I write this, some 30 years later, I remember their practicality and his sacrifice. It may be simplistic, but I still believe that life is what I choose to make of it.
Happy Thanksgiving.
1 comment:
Thanks. My favorite Thanksgiving memory is one of not being able to afford the traditional meal, and ended up having beef and noodles. I learned that it isn't the food that makes the day, it was the sharing and caring. I, too, don't understand only being grateful one day in Nov. A little gratitude in everyday makes a better day! Luv ya!
Post a Comment