Gratitude Eyes

6.4.17

I started reading a book this week. I have actually had the book for almost two years. It's called One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp. My mom brought it to me when Sarah was born. The first chapter is a vivid memory about when the author was four years old and she watched her toddler sister die after being fatally hit by a car in front of their home. It happened three weeks after her youngest sister was born. I read this haunting chapter while holding my own three-week-old and watching my toddler and four-year-old play. I abruptly and promptly put the book high on a shelf with the intention of never opening it again. It hit too close to home and I was angry at my mother for giving it to me when I was in such a vulnerable, hormonal, sleep-deprived state. But I came home the other night to books strewn across the living room, put there by I am assuming my toddler and her toddler friend whose mother was babysitting. As I was about to put this particular book back on its dusty spot on the shelf, I decided to try it again and see if I could at least get passed the first chapter. And I am so grateful that I did. This book is phenomenal. Ann's writing is exquisite, but her message is even more potent. It opens (obviously) with the harrowing trial that changed her family forever. And because I can't help myself, I am just going to quote a few portions:

     "I wonder...if the rent in the canvas of our life backdrop, the losses that puncture our world, our own emptiness, might actually become places to see.

     To see through to God.

     That which tears open our souls, those holes that splatter our sight, may actually become the thin, open places to see through the mess of this place to the heart-aching beauty beyond. To Him. To the God who we endlessly crave.

    Maybe so.

    But how? How do we choose to allow the holes to become seeing-through-to-God places? To more-God places?

    How do I give up resentment for gratitude, gnawing anger for spilling joy? Self-focus for God-communion?"

And that is what it is all about, isn't it? The book and life. To learn how to answer those questions. To learn to say yes to God and all that He gives and takes away. To learn how to see Him and trust Him. To "learn how to be thankful--whether empty or full." The most significant thing about this book, though, is that it isn't only about getting through the heavy, soul-puncturing trials, but through everyday life:

"I wake to the discontent of life in my skin. I wake to self-hatred. To the wrestle to get it all done, the relentless anxiety that I am failing. Always, the failing. I yell at the children, fester with bitterness, forget doctor appointments, lose library books, live selfishly, skip prayer, complain, go to bed too late, neglect cleaning the toilets. I live tired. Afraid. Anxious. Weary. Years, I feel it in the veins, the pulsing of ruptured hopes. Would I ever be enough, find enough, do enough?...It's the life in between, the days of walking lifeless, the years calloused and simply going through the hollow motions, the self-protecting by self-distracting, the body never waking, that's lost all capacity to fully feel--this is the life in between that makes us the wild walking dead."

That. Right there. That is my trial. The monotony of everyday life. It is sprinkled with happy moments, but I am usually just anxiously questioning myself and checking boxes or worse--forgetting to check boxes. I am always looking for ways to make my days different or better by trying to control for all the variables. But it turns out I don't need more control, or a change of pace, or even a vacation. There is "holy joy" to be had right here, in my everyday, if I have eyes to see. And those eyes are gratitude eyes.

Ann explains that the sacrament (or communion) in Greek is called eucharisteo, meaning "he gave thanks" or "thanksgiving", with its root words being grace and joy. We are invited every sacrament meeting to give thanks to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ and to receive grace and joy, but the more important point is that it is not only to be had at the sacrament table. We are invited to His grace and His joy everyday, every time we give thanks. Ann decided to write down one thousand gifts from God for which she was grateful (hence the book title). "In naming that which is right before me, that which I'd otherwise miss, the invisible becomes visible." This naming of the blessings and gifts is "learning the language of paradise." And if the language of paradise is gratitude, then the language of the fall is ingratitude--"humanity's discontent with all that God freely gives." Ingratitude makes you feel words like unfair, lacking, failure, resentment, self-hatred, anxiety, and afraid. The scriptures invite us to "put off the natural man" (Mosiah3:19) and that might be as simple as just being grateful, for "we only enter into the full life if our faith gives thanks. Thanksgiving is what precedes the miracle."

So there it is. This concept of gratitude and grace and joy that I comprehend for only a moment at a time. But I know there is something to it. There is Truth in it. "As long as thanks is possible, then joy is always possible...The holy grail of joy is not in some exotic location or some emotional mountain peak experience. The joy wonder could be here! Here, in the messy, piercing ache of now...The only place we need to see before we die is this place of seeing God, here and now."

If we are constantly giving thanks, then we are constantly feeling joy--even in the depths of trial. "And men are, that they might have joy." (2Nephi 2:25) And if that joy can seep into our actions, we just might become better, holier people.

And to anyone who cares to read this far, here are my first one hundred gifts that I wrote as a prayer of gratitude.

Heavenly Father, thank you for...

1. Giving me soul-filling books after the kids are tucked in and the house is still. 
2. The quiet yet constant company of my cat when Jordan is working late. 
3. Crisp red grapes and fresh Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese. 
4. The familiar sound of a Bosch mixing my cravings.  
5. Moments alone when I can pray out loud.  
6. When Sarah sings to herself in the car. 
7. The three pairs of sleepy eyes who are so thrilled to see me in the morning.
8. When Scarlett and Sylvia are lost in play.
9. When my girls follow me into church like little ducklings following their mother duck.
10. Those moments when I can see trials for what they are--learning experiences.
11. Sarah's chubby hands cupping her bowl while she drinks the rest of its contents, perched on her knees on an over-sized chair.
12. The sound of sizzling sausage.
13. When my husband comes home.
14. Sarah's half-moon brown eyes.
15. Honey and butter slathered on warm homemade bread.
16. Strong legs and an even stronger will that carries me up and down the hills of Pennsylvania while pushing 70lbs of children. 
17. Cleansing rain.
18. Lazy afternoons.
19. A growing garden.
20. The grass-less patch under the tree swing.
21. The soft brown curls that frame Sarah's face.
22. Anniversaries. 
23. Feeling the sun beat on my back after a long winter.
24. The sound of my husband falling asleep. 
25. The peace in my heart this moment.
26. Marital intimacy in all its forms.
27. Fresh, clean, hot, warm, or cold water at my disposal.
28. Old, black and white pictures of my people.
29. Bedtime lullabies.
30. Slightly burnt mozzarella.
31. The taste of food when picked at straight out of the pan.
32. Music that matches my mood.
33. Porch swings.
34. Homemade raspberry jam.
35. My girls inability to resist dancing when music starts playing. 
36. Helping me be humble in the face of criticism. 
37. Days off work.
38. Ceiling fans.
39. Little people clothes.
40. The smell of freshly cut grass and how it reminds me of Shenandoah. 
41. Free online language lessons where I re-learn Spanish and first learn Greek. 
42. Good hair days.
43. The way Sarah puckers up for kisses.
44. The sound of the house-shaking garage door, scattering the girls to their hiding places while they wait for daddy to find them.
45. Free meal vouchers at the hospital.
46. Toasted chicken, bacon, avocado sandwiches.
47. The "bumps" in front of the hospital that entertained the girls for 40 minutes today.
48. Flip flops.
49. When I catch the girls fake crying while at play. They are pretty good little actresses. 
50. Refrigerated apples.
51. Fresh, warm donuts for dinner.
52. When Sarah yells, "I meesed you!" when she hasn't seen me in awhile.
53. Sylvia's strong little body.
54. When she demands that I clap and then bows after showing off a talent.
55. Scarlett's giant, light grey-blue eyes.
56. Scarlett's lisp.
57. When Scarlett differentiates the homemade bread and jam from the store-bought bread and jam by calling it "your bread" and "your jam." 
58. Bare baby bums.
59. The GroupMe app keeping my family connected. 
60. My giant, French-country, wall clock 
61. Mr. Hoffman's piano lessons.
62. Summer dresses.
63. Babies swinging on their bellies like little superheroes. 
64. When the cat lets the girls snuggle her.
65. Friendly neighbors.
66. Perfect summer evening weather.
67. Scooters circling the driveway.
68. The afternoon sun beaming through the kitchen window
69. White painted cabinets.
70. Garbage day.
71. Fire pits.
72. The first tomato from the garden.
73. The first tomato smashed in Sarah's chubby hands.
74. Tan, dirty, bruised summer legs.
75. For Sylvia's prayer thanking you "that we don't have cough or sneeze or hiccups."
76. When Sylvia's voice gets squeaky with joy.
77. Authentic Korean food.
78. Hoses on hot days.
79. Naps in cars.
80. Good, thought-provoking discussions at church.
81. Coming home from church filled and determined to be better.
82. Absolute truths.
83. Finally being consistent at family prayer (before bed at least).
84. Finding my wedding ring.
85. Babies chasing kitties and kitties chasing babies.
86. Bubbles.
87. The way honey glows in sunlight.
88. When Sarah repeats a word over and over and over with different inflections like she's trying to memorize it. 
89. Watching my girls swim so hard and so happily.
90. The exhausted and starved feeling after being at the pool.
91. Popsicles on the porch.
92. Sweet lessons from sweet missionaries.
93. Melty, messy s'mores. 
94. Hearing something I've heard a thousand times, but finally hearing it differently 
95. Scarlett's insatiable thirst for knowledge and mental stimulation.
96. Getting to go out and play hard in the sun, but then getting to come in and unwind and cool down. 
97. Answering my prayer about what to do when Scarlett's says no to everything I ask.
98. The satisfaction that follows the first bite of a hot meal after being REALLY hungry. 
99. Sandboxes.
100. A toddler who loves me so much that she can't help but climb out of her crib 15 times every night to find me and ask me to put her pants back on.