| Sunny Side Up Oct.4, 2006 �2006, Kathleen Gibson Thanks for the lesser gifts Thank you God, for the gifts I seldom appreciate - the ones I sometimes complain about. The meetings I'm supposed to attend, the emails that demand response. The days with too many phone calls, and too few meaningful conversations. Thank you too, for that friend who often needs help. The grown child who needs my ear, the man who comes home for lunch, the relatives who visit for weeks on end. Thank you for those crying children who still within the circle of my arms. For the mentally ill friend who begs for prayers and visits. For pets that persist in being underfoot - or under covers. Thank you too for my strongest critics. The people who find fault with my life, my faith, my words (they don't have to look far) and angrily tell me so. Giver of Good Gifts, forgive the selfishness that for so long prevented me from thanking you for the 'snoop'. The elderly lady who called regularly, just to find out 'what we're up to' and who I was so often impatient with. Today I understand the gift - the hours she spent praying especially for our needs, our peace, our ministry, our protection. I apologize, Friend God, for griping about the long white winters in this prairie I call home. I've missed so much of their beauty in my resentment of their abrupt termination of my favorite golden season and my impatience for spring. The lengthy session of cold, I realize with regret and chagrin, is the coinage that buys my quiet months of meaningful indoor work. I confess this frankly, Father: Sometimes I would have tossed those gifts, had you sent them wrapped in brown paper and string. But today I thought of people I know who've done just that, and realized something: Those people are paupers. They may have no critics, but only because they've never taken a significant stand on anything. No friends call to ask a favor. No one - friend, co-worker or child - offers them the sacred contents of their heart, just for the healing of the listen. They have no one to chat with over lunch. Children and pets steer clear. They're never missed at meetings, and they receive no pleas for help or prayer from someone who genuinely believes they have something valuable to share. Worst, they need never pray for patience, endurance, love. It frustrates me, Lord, when others forget words of gratitude, but this morning my own ungrateful spirit shames me. If my thanks were snowflakes, there may not be enough to pack a snowball. But where does one send a thank you card for a long white winter, and what does it mean to a crying child to say, "Thank you for needing me"? So, Gift-maker - Giver Supreme - I thank you for the lesser gifts. The oft-troubling ones. They make me a rich woman. Should you care enough to keep sending them, I'll take them - and pray to love them. Brown paper, twine and all. Respond Home |
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