Gratitude

How grateful are you?

I have to confess that when my children were young, gratitude was something I struggled with. I knew how lucky I was to have a home, a loving husband and beautiful, albeit rambunctious, children. But I was too busy, felt too tired to stop and give thanks.

From the moment my second child was born, I felt as if someone had thrown me in the middle of a gigantic vortex – with dirty dishes and laundry, small toys and big messes, diapers and mismatched socks swirling around me – and I couldn’t get out of it.

I was so caught up in the moment, striving to keep up, that I missed it.

A decade later, I felt as if the storm had finally spit me up, living me in the middle of my living room floor – dazed, somewhat bruised, and totally perplex – wondering where in the world had all those years gone.

Around this time, my daughter Gracie was a sophomore in High School. For months she had been asking me to help her paint her room. We’ll do it during Summer break, I had promised, but summer came and went, as well as fall, without a chance for me to tackle this project.

After Christmas I decided it was time to drop the excuses. Excited, mother and daughter went to Home Depot for paint, brushes and a bit of inspiration. And so we got started.

With each rhythmical stroke of our paintbrushes a realization seeped into my mind: The girl painting next to me was no longer a child. I paused for a moment to take a long look at my daughter. Birthday parties, scraped knees, dance rehearsals, and school projects played in my mind’s eye in fast-forward. Where was I when all of this happened?

Unaware of my swirling emotions, Gracie talked to me about her dreams, a boy she had a crush on, and the fact that this might be the last time we painted her room.

Closing my eyes, I pictured us painting the walls of an empty apartment – hers.

I realized that year after year I had dutifully gone through the motions of motherhood, facing the gradual changes completely unaware of what was going on around me. There were new outfits, bigger shoes, new teachers, new school years – yet everything felt the same.

Until this day.

Are you ok, Mom? Gracie asked, looking puzzled.

Yes, yes, I lied. I was just a little distracted.

No, I wasn’t! I had never been more aware than at that moment. Aware of the fact that one day a new school year will not come, and my children will buy their own clothes, feed their own families, paint their own homes.

I did the math: I only had a couple more years before Gracie went to college, perhaps in a different city or at another state. Ronnie would start High School the following year, and Nick two years later. Six years max. I was not going to miss it this time!

But, how? I couldn’t change the pace of life, with its inevitable busyness and demands. I couldn’t do anything to keep my children from growing older. I couldn’t make time stop, or slow down, or even go back – as badly as wanted to – just because I had suddenly realized it was slipping from my fingers faster than running water.

How, Lord? I pleaded.

He answered.

I couldn’t change my circumstances, but I sure could change my perception. In His great mercy, God opened my eyes – right in the middle of a painting project – to see that each moment and each day with my family wasn’t something to endure or to try to hang on to, but something I could savor, a gift to enjoy and be grateful for.

That is the beauty of gratitude. It changes your *perspective. It frees you to truly live and to love, to be happy, a lot more aware, and at peace.

On this Thanksgiving Day, I am thankful for each one of you and for God’s many blessings – among them, the blessing of gratitude.

Happy Thanksgiving Day!

Ana
*To read more about perspective, please go to: "A New Perspective"