In honor of Thanksgiving, I'm re-posting a pair of (I hope) pertinent posts from bygone years. I mean, I think they're not too bad. . .
-------------------------
Sometime around the year 1420, a monk named Thomas a Kempis wrote a book, The Imitation of Christ (in the original Latin, Imitatio Christi), which in the fullness of time would become the most widely-read Christian book besides the Bible. And, in its turn, it also became one of my own all-time favorite books.
The Imitation reads like a medieval Christian Book of Proverbs - wisdom for living the Christian life from a wise old monk. It is simply dense with rich and challenging quotes, several of which have made their way into my 'Book of Favorite Quotes' (not available in stores). One of my favorites, which I commend to the attention of all my blog-friends, is this, from chapter 6 of Book 3:
"A wise lover does not so much consider the gift of his lover as he does the love of the giver."
I first came across this many years ago, but it has become one of the favorite 'bywords' that Jenn and I will quote to each other. It bespeaks a kind of humble gratitude, which has served us really well in building our marriage over the years.
On the face of it, it's pretty simple, really - sort of like etiquette for opening presents on Christmas morning - be grateful for the gifts you get, even if they're not exactly the ones you were hoping for. But you know, Thomas doesn't present it as etiquette advice; he just says, "A wise lover. . ." More like, "this is wisdom beyond what meets the eye. . ." And it works, on multiple levels. . .
As most of you know, I'm adopted. At some point when I was in college, I connected the dots, and the realization dawned on me that I had been somebody's 'unwanted pregnancy', once upon a time. It occurred to me that my very existence was due to somebody I'd never met, taking the trouble to see me through nine months of pregnancy. Jenn and I got married and began having our own children (1F was actually the first person I ever knew who was genetically related to me), and all the while, the realization of what it had cost my birth-mother for me to be alive was growing stronger. Until finally, the sense of gratitude for my own existence became my strongest motivation to find and meet my birth-mother.
My birth-mother and I have always had a great relationship. Not so much because either of us are such wonderful people, but because at the bottom of it all, our relationship is one of mutual gratitude. I'm grateful to her for giving me life, and putting up with everything that went into that, including relinquishing me to be adopted by a family that could raise me. And she's grateful, even after all the years, to have a relationship with the son of her womb (and a fine son he is, if I may say so myself). We're both fairly quirky individuals (shocking as this may seem to you, I know), and there could be a lot to be annoyed with in each other, if we were so inclined. But from the beginning, our relationship has been founded on gratitude, so the quirks just seem really minor.
And likewise in my marriage. I'm so grateful to Jenn for throwing her life in with mine, for the love she gives me every day, and for the richness of the life we share together, that her quirks (and yes, alas, she has one or two) just aren't a very big deal by comparison. And I know it works the same way from her end. It's not just a matter of 'seeing the glass half-full' or 'looking on the bright side', although both of those are good advice. Temperamentally, I'm just not a 'glass-half-full' person. But being able to receive with joy 'the gift my lover brings' (Beatle-lyrics-reference alert!), just because I know how it's expressive of her love for me (quite a separate question from how good a gift it is) (but let me be clear - it is a most excellent gift), brings deep joy to my whole life. I'm certainly not meaning to hold myself up as a shining example of superior virtue, or anything like that. But I do believe we've learned something really good and valuable. . .
*************************
The conviction has grown within me, over the years, that gratitude is, on a very fundamental level, the most appropriate response we can make for our lives. Gratitude to God, certainly, and most fundamentally. But even on a more mundane level, gratitude to our parents; to our teachers, coaches and mentors; to our brothers and sisters, and our friends.
Existence itself is a gratuitous gift, for which there is no appropriate response except gratitude. Loving relationships; food, clothing and shelter; all the mundane, daily circumstances that, individually and collectively, bring joy and meaning to our lives.
Every one of us has his/her own set of things to be thankful for, and people to be thankful to. Rather than riff off into my own 'list', I'll just encourage all my blog-friends, however briefly, to give some thought to what you're grateful for, and to whom. . .
Showing posts with label Thanksgiving. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Thanksgiving. Show all posts
Thursday, November 22, 2018
Thursday, November 28, 2013
Then Thank the Lord
I came across this hymn recently. I'm sure it's of more traditional provenance than the setting I (and folks of my, uh, antiquity) recall from the 70s-era musical Godspell, but that's the tune I have in mind when I read this. Anyway, today being Thanksgiving, it seems suitably apropos. . .
-------------------------
We Plough the Fields
by Matthias Claudius (1740-1815)
We plough the fields and scatter
The good seed on the land,
But it is fed and watered
By God's almighty hand;
He sends the snow in winter,
The warmth to swell the grain,
The breezes and the sunshine,
And soft refreshing rain.
All good gifts around us
Are sent from Heaven above,
Then thank the Lord, O thank the Lord
For all His love.
He only is the Maker
Of all things near and far
He paints the wayside flower,
He lights the evening star.
The winds and waves obey Him,
By Him the birds are fed;
Much more to us, His children,
He gives our daily bread.
All good gifts around us
Are sent from Heaven above,
Then thank the Lord, O thank the Lord
For all His love.
We thank Thee then, O Father,
For all things bright and good,
The seed-time and the harvest,
Our life, our health, our food.
No gifts have we to offer
For all Thy love imparts,
But that which Thou desirest,
Our humble, thankful hearts.
All good gifts around us
Are sent from Heaven above,
Then thank the Lord, O thank the Lord
For all His love.
-------------------------
"Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good;
His steadfast love endures forever."
- Psalm 107:1 (also Psalm 118:1, Psalm 136:1)
I wish a happy and richly-blessed Thanksgiving to all my friends and their families.
-------------------------
We Plough the Fields
by Matthias Claudius (1740-1815)
We plough the fields and scatter
The good seed on the land,
But it is fed and watered
By God's almighty hand;
He sends the snow in winter,
The warmth to swell the grain,
The breezes and the sunshine,
And soft refreshing rain.
All good gifts around us
Are sent from Heaven above,
Then thank the Lord, O thank the Lord
For all His love.
He only is the Maker
Of all things near and far
He paints the wayside flower,
He lights the evening star.
The winds and waves obey Him,
By Him the birds are fed;
Much more to us, His children,
He gives our daily bread.
All good gifts around us
Are sent from Heaven above,
Then thank the Lord, O thank the Lord
For all His love.
We thank Thee then, O Father,
For all things bright and good,
The seed-time and the harvest,
Our life, our health, our food.
No gifts have we to offer
For all Thy love imparts,
But that which Thou desirest,
Our humble, thankful hearts.
All good gifts around us
Are sent from Heaven above,
Then thank the Lord, O thank the Lord
For all His love.
-------------------------
"Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good;
His steadfast love endures forever."
- Psalm 107:1 (also Psalm 118:1, Psalm 136:1)
I wish a happy and richly-blessed Thanksgiving to all my friends and their families.
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Giving Thanks
This is mostly a re-post of something I wrote six years ago on my old blog, polished up and expanded just a bit. Hope you enjoy it. . .
-------------------------
Over the years, the conviction has grown within me that gratitude is, on a very fundamental level, the most appropriate response we can make for pretty much everything in our lives. There is very little that we have in our lives that wasn't, ultimately, in one way or another, given to us by someone else.
Existence itself is a gratuitous gift, for which there is no appropriate response except gratitude. The Creator and Ruler of the Universe has called all things into being, and I myself, along with the rest of it. There is no fundamental reason why I should exist rather than not exist, and yet I do, through nothing that I did on my own initiative.
Most fundamentally, we owe gratitude to God, "in whom we live and move and have our being", and in whose Image and Likeness we are made. And in knowing whom and loving whom we find our purpose. "You have made us for yourself, and our hearts are restless until they rest in You."
On a more mundane level, we owe gratitude for our connections to other people - to our parents and grandparents; to our teachers, coaches, and mentors; to our brothers and sisters, our wives and husbands, and our friends, whose love and care make our lives rich and meaningful.
Love itself, and the earthy joys of bodily life; food, clothing, and shelter; music, truth and beauty; all the mundane, daily circumstances that, individually and collectively, bring joy to our lives. Even my Tigers, and my Spartans, most of the time.
Every one of us has his/her own set of things to be thankful for, and 'givers' to whom we owe thanks. On this day of Thanksgiving, I encourage all my friends in Blog-space (for whom and to whom I am also grateful) to pause, however briefly, and give some thought to what you're grateful for, and to whom. . .
-------------------------
Over the years, the conviction has grown within me that gratitude is, on a very fundamental level, the most appropriate response we can make for pretty much everything in our lives. There is very little that we have in our lives that wasn't, ultimately, in one way or another, given to us by someone else.
Existence itself is a gratuitous gift, for which there is no appropriate response except gratitude. The Creator and Ruler of the Universe has called all things into being, and I myself, along with the rest of it. There is no fundamental reason why I should exist rather than not exist, and yet I do, through nothing that I did on my own initiative.
Most fundamentally, we owe gratitude to God, "in whom we live and move and have our being", and in whose Image and Likeness we are made. And in knowing whom and loving whom we find our purpose. "You have made us for yourself, and our hearts are restless until they rest in You."
On a more mundane level, we owe gratitude for our connections to other people - to our parents and grandparents; to our teachers, coaches, and mentors; to our brothers and sisters, our wives and husbands, and our friends, whose love and care make our lives rich and meaningful.
Love itself, and the earthy joys of bodily life; food, clothing, and shelter; music, truth and beauty; all the mundane, daily circumstances that, individually and collectively, bring joy to our lives. Even my Tigers, and my Spartans, most of the time.
Every one of us has his/her own set of things to be thankful for, and 'givers' to whom we owe thanks. On this day of Thanksgiving, I encourage all my friends in Blog-space (for whom and to whom I am also grateful) to pause, however briefly, and give some thought to what you're grateful for, and to whom. . .
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Grief. . . And Gratitude
It's nearly three months since my dad died. And introspective fellow that I am, it hasn't hit me like the ton of bricks I thought it would. I was prepared for huge, crushing grief, an utter earthquake in my life. Dad was one of the very few constants in my life; mothers have come and gone for me (strange as that is to say, and I really don't mean it in the least bit pejoratively toward any of them). We've changed houses and cities; friends have come and gone, but since the day he adopted me (before my memories of anything earlier had kicked in in earnest), Dad was always there for me. So I was prepared for some pretty significant emotional churning (and recalling what I experienced when I met my birth-mother, that wasn't an unreasonable thought).
But it hasn't been that way at all. I miss him. Oh, without a doubt, I miss him terribly. Ever since Mom went to the nursing home, I'd had a pattern of calling Dad roughly weekly. The calls weren't always terribly stimulating; often as not, he'd just keep me up-to-date on his current medical status. Sometimes we'd talk about recent progress on the family genealogy (and in the last year before he died, he made a really significant breakthrough, tracking our surname-family back across the ocean, into 1600s Germany), or just what my packet of his grandkids (the 'production side' of the family tree) were up to. It wasn't terribly burdensome - I'd usually call him on my cell phone driving home from work (my daily commute covers many miles of lightly-traveled freeway, so it wasn't a big deal) - and it was always good just to hear his voice. I miss those calls.
On one level, I've been mentally preparing myself for his passing for the last 20 years; his brothers were 47 and 58 when they died, and my grandpa didn't see 70, either. So once Dad hit 70, I figured he could be leaving any time. So maybe that's helped; I don't know. . .
Mostly, I've just felt a sadness. Not a big, up-front, dominating-my-consciousness sadness, but just a background sadness that's just kinda. . . there. And doesn't go away (at least, it hasn't yet). I'm not depressed; I still enjoy my life. I take joy from my marriage, and my kids (all of them), and my network of good friends. I'm enjoying the challenges of my job. I just miss my dad, that's all.
They tell me that, in time, it will mostly go away. That the sense of sadness and loss will soften and heal. And I believe them. But just at the moment, I miss him. Ever since I moved out of my parents' house, I've often, when I found myself wrestling with some conundrum of life, asked myself what Dad would do about it. I rarely ever called and asked him directly, but it was always comforting to know that I could. And now I can't anymore. But I can still draw on the internal resources that his own strong character provided for me; only now, I have to pull it from my memory of him. And I suppose that that's comforting in its own way. . .
-------------------------
Thanksgiving is coming soon, and this Thanksgiving promises to be as significant as any we've had in quite a few years. Perhaps most obviously, this is the momentous First Holiday since Dad died; the first time our family will be gathering for the holidays without our parents. And who knows how that will be? But I am gratified that we are all inclined to keep our family connections alive (and given the Yours-Mine-and-Ours nature of our family, perhaps all the moreso).
So, it being Thanksgiving, I am grateful for my family. And I am especially grateful for 55 years of life with my Dad in it. I am grateful for his strong character, his sense of duty, and the strong example he gave me. I can't even begin to say how my life has been better for him having been my dad. . .
But it hasn't been that way at all. I miss him. Oh, without a doubt, I miss him terribly. Ever since Mom went to the nursing home, I'd had a pattern of calling Dad roughly weekly. The calls weren't always terribly stimulating; often as not, he'd just keep me up-to-date on his current medical status. Sometimes we'd talk about recent progress on the family genealogy (and in the last year before he died, he made a really significant breakthrough, tracking our surname-family back across the ocean, into 1600s Germany), or just what my packet of his grandkids (the 'production side' of the family tree) were up to. It wasn't terribly burdensome - I'd usually call him on my cell phone driving home from work (my daily commute covers many miles of lightly-traveled freeway, so it wasn't a big deal) - and it was always good just to hear his voice. I miss those calls.
On one level, I've been mentally preparing myself for his passing for the last 20 years; his brothers were 47 and 58 when they died, and my grandpa didn't see 70, either. So once Dad hit 70, I figured he could be leaving any time. So maybe that's helped; I don't know. . .
Mostly, I've just felt a sadness. Not a big, up-front, dominating-my-consciousness sadness, but just a background sadness that's just kinda. . . there. And doesn't go away (at least, it hasn't yet). I'm not depressed; I still enjoy my life. I take joy from my marriage, and my kids (all of them), and my network of good friends. I'm enjoying the challenges of my job. I just miss my dad, that's all.
They tell me that, in time, it will mostly go away. That the sense of sadness and loss will soften and heal. And I believe them. But just at the moment, I miss him. Ever since I moved out of my parents' house, I've often, when I found myself wrestling with some conundrum of life, asked myself what Dad would do about it. I rarely ever called and asked him directly, but it was always comforting to know that I could. And now I can't anymore. But I can still draw on the internal resources that his own strong character provided for me; only now, I have to pull it from my memory of him. And I suppose that that's comforting in its own way. . .
-------------------------
Thanksgiving is coming soon, and this Thanksgiving promises to be as significant as any we've had in quite a few years. Perhaps most obviously, this is the momentous First Holiday since Dad died; the first time our family will be gathering for the holidays without our parents. And who knows how that will be? But I am gratified that we are all inclined to keep our family connections alive (and given the Yours-Mine-and-Ours nature of our family, perhaps all the moreso).
So, it being Thanksgiving, I am grateful for my family. And I am especially grateful for 55 years of life with my Dad in it. I am grateful for his strong character, his sense of duty, and the strong example he gave me. I can't even begin to say how my life has been better for him having been my dad. . .
Monday, November 22, 2010
Gratitude
In honor of the impending Thanksgiving holiday, I'm re-posting a pair of (I hope) pertinent posts from bygone years. I'll actually be giving you a series of re-posts in the coming weeks; I hope you won't mind. I mean, I think they're not too bad. . .
-------------------------
Sometime around the year 1420, a monk named Thomas a Kempis wrote a book, The Imitation of Christ (in the original Latin, Imitatio Christi), which in the fullness of time would become the most widely-read Christian book besides the Bible. And, in its turn, it also became one of my own all-time favorite books.
The Imitation reads like a medieval Christian Book of Proverbs - wisdom for living the Christian life from a wise old monk. It is simply dense with rich and challenging quotes, several of which have made their way into my 'Book of Favorite Quotes' (not available in stores). One of my favorites, which I commend to the attention of all my blog-friends, is this, from chapter 6 of Book 3:
"A wise lover does not so much consider the gift of his lover as he does the love of the giver."
I first came across this many years ago, but it has become one of the favorite 'bywords' that Jen and I will quote to each other. It bespeaks a kind of humble gratitude, which has served us really well in building our marriage over the years.
On the face of it, it's pretty simple, really - sort of like etiquette for opening presents on Christmas morning - be grateful for the gifts you get, even if they're not exactly the ones you were hoping for. But you know, Thomas doesn't present it as etiquette advice; he just says, "A wise lover. . ." More like, "this is wisdom beyond what meets the eye. . ." And it works, on multiple levels. . .
As most of you know, I'm adopted. At some point when I was in college, I connected the dots, and the realization dawned on me that I had been somebody's 'unwanted pregnancy'. It occurred to me that my very existence was due to somebody I'd never met, taking the trouble to see me through nine months of pregnancy. Jen and I got married and began having our own children (1F was actually the first person I ever knew who was genetically related to me), and all the while, the realization of what it had cost my birth-mother for me to be alive was growing stronger. Until finally, the sense of gratitude for my own existence became my strongest motivation to find and meet my birth-mother.
My birth-mother and I have always had a great relationship. Not so much because either of us are such wonderful people, but because at the bottom of it all, our relationship is one of mutual gratitude. I'm grateful to her for giving me life, and putting up with everything that went into that, including relinquishing me to be adopted by a family that could raise me. And she's grateful, even after all the years, to have a relationship with the son of her womb (and a fine son he is, if I may say so myself). We're both fairly quirky individuals (shocking as this may seem to you, I know), and there could be a lot to be annoyed with in each other, if we were so inclined. But from the beginning, our relationship has been founded on gratitude, so the quirks just seem really minor.
And likewise in my marriage. I'm so grateful to Jen for throwing her life in with mine, for the love she gives me every day, and for the richness of the life we share together, that her quirks (and yes, alas, she has one or two) just aren't a very big deal by comparison. And I know it works the same way from her end. It's not just a matter of 'seeing the glass half-full' or 'looking on the bright side', although both of those are good advice. Temperamentally, I'm just not a 'glass-half-full' person. But being able to receive with joy 'the gift my lover brings', just because I know how it's expressive of her love for me (quite a separate question from how good a gift it is) (but let me be clear - it is a most excellent gift), brings deep joy to my whole life. I'm certainly not meaning to hold myself up as a shining example of superior virtue, or anything like that. But I do believe we've learned something really good and valuable. . .
*************************
Continuing with the theme. . .
-------------------------
The conviction has grown within me, over the years, that gratitude is, on a very fundamental level, the most appropriate response we can make for our lives. Gratitude to God, certainly, and most fundamentally. But even on a more mundane level, gratitude to our parents; to our teachers, coaches and mentors; to our brothers and sisters, and our friends.
Existence itself is a gratuitous gift, for which there is no appropriate response except gratitude. Loving relationships; food, clothing and shelter; all the mundane, daily circumstances that, individually and collectively, bring joy and meaning to our lives.
Every one of us has his/her own set of things to be thankful for, and people to be thankful to. Rather than riff off into my own 'list', I'll just encourage all my blog-friends to, however briefly, give some thought to what you're grateful for, and to whom. . .
-------------------------
Sometime around the year 1420, a monk named Thomas a Kempis wrote a book, The Imitation of Christ (in the original Latin, Imitatio Christi), which in the fullness of time would become the most widely-read Christian book besides the Bible. And, in its turn, it also became one of my own all-time favorite books.
The Imitation reads like a medieval Christian Book of Proverbs - wisdom for living the Christian life from a wise old monk. It is simply dense with rich and challenging quotes, several of which have made their way into my 'Book of Favorite Quotes' (not available in stores). One of my favorites, which I commend to the attention of all my blog-friends, is this, from chapter 6 of Book 3:
"A wise lover does not so much consider the gift of his lover as he does the love of the giver."
I first came across this many years ago, but it has become one of the favorite 'bywords' that Jen and I will quote to each other. It bespeaks a kind of humble gratitude, which has served us really well in building our marriage over the years.
On the face of it, it's pretty simple, really - sort of like etiquette for opening presents on Christmas morning - be grateful for the gifts you get, even if they're not exactly the ones you were hoping for. But you know, Thomas doesn't present it as etiquette advice; he just says, "A wise lover. . ." More like, "this is wisdom beyond what meets the eye. . ." And it works, on multiple levels. . .
As most of you know, I'm adopted. At some point when I was in college, I connected the dots, and the realization dawned on me that I had been somebody's 'unwanted pregnancy'. It occurred to me that my very existence was due to somebody I'd never met, taking the trouble to see me through nine months of pregnancy. Jen and I got married and began having our own children (1F was actually the first person I ever knew who was genetically related to me), and all the while, the realization of what it had cost my birth-mother for me to be alive was growing stronger. Until finally, the sense of gratitude for my own existence became my strongest motivation to find and meet my birth-mother.
My birth-mother and I have always had a great relationship. Not so much because either of us are such wonderful people, but because at the bottom of it all, our relationship is one of mutual gratitude. I'm grateful to her for giving me life, and putting up with everything that went into that, including relinquishing me to be adopted by a family that could raise me. And she's grateful, even after all the years, to have a relationship with the son of her womb (and a fine son he is, if I may say so myself). We're both fairly quirky individuals (shocking as this may seem to you, I know), and there could be a lot to be annoyed with in each other, if we were so inclined. But from the beginning, our relationship has been founded on gratitude, so the quirks just seem really minor.
And likewise in my marriage. I'm so grateful to Jen for throwing her life in with mine, for the love she gives me every day, and for the richness of the life we share together, that her quirks (and yes, alas, she has one or two) just aren't a very big deal by comparison. And I know it works the same way from her end. It's not just a matter of 'seeing the glass half-full' or 'looking on the bright side', although both of those are good advice. Temperamentally, I'm just not a 'glass-half-full' person. But being able to receive with joy 'the gift my lover brings', just because I know how it's expressive of her love for me (quite a separate question from how good a gift it is) (but let me be clear - it is a most excellent gift), brings deep joy to my whole life. I'm certainly not meaning to hold myself up as a shining example of superior virtue, or anything like that. But I do believe we've learned something really good and valuable. . .
*************************
Continuing with the theme. . .
-------------------------
The conviction has grown within me, over the years, that gratitude is, on a very fundamental level, the most appropriate response we can make for our lives. Gratitude to God, certainly, and most fundamentally. But even on a more mundane level, gratitude to our parents; to our teachers, coaches and mentors; to our brothers and sisters, and our friends.
Existence itself is a gratuitous gift, for which there is no appropriate response except gratitude. Loving relationships; food, clothing and shelter; all the mundane, daily circumstances that, individually and collectively, bring joy and meaning to our lives.
Every one of us has his/her own set of things to be thankful for, and people to be thankful to. Rather than riff off into my own 'list', I'll just encourage all my blog-friends to, however briefly, give some thought to what you're grateful for, and to whom. . .
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