There is a cynic that lounges lazily in my soul, knowing
everything, surprised by nothing, scoffing at mystery and wonder. This week, I was challenged by my cousin Rita to be
anti-cynical, to examine the light instead of the darkness, to consider the
half-full portion of the glass rather than the empty space above it. I was challenged to be thankful.
Over six days, I avoided the obvious; the “stuff” I’ve
accumulated: the abundance of food, the roof over my head, the clothes, and the
toys. Not to diminish these things, because
I am truly grateful for them… humbled even, under the realization that most
people around the globe own much less than I do. Instead I focused my gratitude on the people
who have enriched my life.
As I thought about each person; my wife, daughters, parents,
siblings, grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, nephews, nieces, friends, church
family, theatre family, teachers and more; I was struck by the vastness of my treasures. I felt like Jimmy Stewart’s character at the
end of It’s a Wonderful Life, when
his brother raises a glass and toasts “to George Bailey, the richest man in
town.”
But I was perplexed by another thought as well. In recognizing the enormity of my blessings,
I felt the need to be thankful. And as
much as I was thankful to each person
in the story of my life, I also realized I was thankful for them. And if this is
true, to whom do I express my thanks?
The Universe? My Lucky Stars? Good Fortune? Karma?
None of those answers satisfied me.
Thanks must be uttered to a person.
And so I say it. I
say “Thank you God, for all your blessings, this light that I see shining in
the darkness. Thank you also for the
darkness, because in the trials and grief your blessings shine all the brighter. And thank you for love, God. That was your best idea yet.”
And the cynic in my soul has nothing to say in response.
