Ugh, do I have to wake up?
Waking up is vastly overrated. The pillows, the blankets, the soft curve of the mattress against my body, these are calling my name, beckoning me like a lullaby.
But if I’m honest with myself, I’m lucky today. I actually didn’t wake before my alarm on my phone. My kids didn’t wake me up.
Hey, I can get dressed, wash my face, and brush my hair in five minutes of silence!
If I sound sarcastic, I don’t mean to be. There are those sunny people who would tell me to be happy for another sunrise, and while part of me wants to show them where they can shove their bright remarks, the better part of me knows they’re right.
Besides, you can’t hold too much against me right now. I haven’t had my coffee yet.
So, it’s the start of another day. In the hour or so before getting out of the house, I need to feed three young kids breakfast and get them dressed and ready for school (with the exception of my daughter, who is only one). Oh, and I also need to feed myself somewhere in there. You’d think this wouldn’t be so hard, but that’s a lie many young moms tell themselves to feel better. Kids are disagreeable by nature, little people designed to push Mommy’s buttons. I admit I am not the most patient person on the planet, but after several mishaps in less than an hour, sometimes I’m ready for the clock to read 8:00 PM and not 8:00 AM.
But I push through my little aggravations…usually. I get the boys off to school, and it’s to the Y to work out. Working out is a great stress-reliever, but you know what comes to mind about the Y for me? There is an older gentleman who works at the Y I go to. He’s a custodian. It’s his job to clean toilets, to scrub floors, and to unclog drains. Yet he always, always smiles at me (and everyone he passes) and says, “Hello, how you doing?” He’s the type of guy you can’t help but smile back at and say hello, even on the tough days.
So, what’s he got that a lot of us don’t? Can I have your seeds of happiness and plant them inside of me, sir? I don’t like being miserable…and yet, I do it to myself. I choose to complain many, many times throughout every day about mostly trivial things: red lights, running late, being behind a slow driver, my son arguing with me, having to turn around and change a poopy diaper after just doing so…
Yet there are bigger things that lie just under the surface. Am I a good mom? Am I doing enough for my kids? I don’t feel equipped to be the mom of an autistic son. Who thought I could handle this? What about my dreams, my ambitions, my identity? I’m a writer. Is my stuff any good? Are people just humoring me by being nice? Do people really want to be my friends? Who could possibly love me?
Tough questions that stab at the heart. Those are seeds of discontent, of lies, of hatred, of fear. Plant those and they will choke out anything good, honest, loving, and hopeful.
I’m throwing out this obvious disclaimer before I go any further: I am not an expert on the topic I’m going to attempt to write about here–gratitude. My guess is you probably struggle with feeling grateful most days as well. It seems to be human nature to focus on the negatives. So, let’s take this journey together. Let’s foray into the muck of lies we tell ourselves (that we’re no good) and try to come out on the other end into something better (that we’re worthy).
I have done some book studies in a small group I’m in at church on this topic–gratitude. Some people call it counting your blessings. It’s not always easy, especially when emotions take hold and force us to take an ugly turn. As I’ve gotten older (and maybe a bit wiser), I have heard that little voice in the back of my head more–yes, even when I’m super-hormonal and slightly crazy!
When things are spiraling out of control, I can often see it unraveling. I know I am only going to make things worse for me and everyone else who has the unfortunate habit of crossing my path miserable. Often, I am focusing on one bad thing and ignoring many good things. There’s that one person who has let me down (or so I think), has pissed me off, or is just seeming to not live up to my expectations. Ah, expectations. Those nasty, petty things we want others to do, because, you know, we (read: I) know best. Um, right…
Stop right there. This is where we (yes, you and I) take a deep breath and think. Yes, think. Not react. Think about what’s going right in life. There are plenty of people who love me, who support me, who are there for me. I am breathing, aren’t I? I am alive. Sometimes it’s raining, and I long for sunshine. Sometimes it’s sunny, and I want a rainy day to cuddle inside and read a good book. But every day is truly a blessing when you think about it.
If you’re like most Americans, you have a roof over your head, food on the table, and clothes on your back. You don’t even have to think about these things, these bare necessities, but they are blessings. Often, I find that when I am taking my blessings for granted, when I stop and think about it, I know I have been blessed to be a blessing to others.
That’s gratitude–being thankful for what you do have without expecting more. A wise woman I know who has been through hell and back has a mantra: What are you doing with what you already got?
So, plant those seeds of the good stuff and water them often. That’s how you start cultivating an attitude of gratitude. You make the conscious effort (a choice, yes) to be grateful every day and count those blessings. I started writing my blessings down, with the goal of reaching 1000. I think I stopped somewhere in the 800s, but I got pretty far! I didn’t write them all in one day…a few a day, sometimes with several weeks in between writing them down. When you see those blessings written down, it can make them more concrete.
It takes a lot of practice and a constant, conscious effort to cultivate an attitude of gratitude. Do it enough, and that little voice starts to speak with more authority. You are more than the sum of your fears and little hates. You are someone whose life has a purpose. For me, I believe God sees the beauty in us even when we don’t see it in ourselves.
Those seeds can grow into something beautiful, something life-sustaining and worth sharing with others. So, I invite you to think about it. Plant some good seeds with me, make a choice, and watch them grow.
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One response to “Cultivating an Attitude of Gratitude”
When my kiddos were wee small and romping around, I used to console myself that their raw sin natures hadn’t learned etiquette yet and that was why dealing with them made me want to tear out my hair. Actually, another mom told me that, but it sounded good at the time. What else could explain such barbaric behavior? Ha! I thought it’d be like training dogs, this child rearing. I was mistaken, but it turns out I’m not that good at training dogs, either! I wish, when I had littles like you do, that I had as much wisdom and perspective as you have. Keep fighting the good fight, Cyndi.