Ever since I was a kid I've been frustrated by schools' efforts to get me to connect to my European roots. I understand that we're a nation of immigrants and most people came from somewhere else, but I didn't and neither did my parents, grandparents or great-grandparents. I feel no connection to any of the many countries that I could call my cultural heritage. I've finally given up on finding a dish from my cultural heritage to bring to the "Multicultural Potluck" dinner. Now I just say, "I'm from the midwest, and we eat casserole."
I figure, if I feel that way, there has got to be people of other racial and ethnic heritages that feel the same way. Maybe they just want to say, "I'm a modern busy mom, and we order KFC." I don't know, maybe it's just me.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Grateful
Really, I should be writing thank you cards, but for the moment I'm going to blog about thank you instead.
Saying, "Thank you," seems pretty straightforward. Someone shares their chocolate with you and you say, "Thanks!" They pass the salt and you say, "Thanks." They move out of your way in the row of the movie theater and you say, "Thanks." Most of the time you don't even think about it, or possibly even notice if you said it.
I actually did start to think about it a few years back. I came to a point where there were certain things that I didn't want to say, "Thank you," for at all. I didn't want to thank my husband for doing certain things like, cleaning up the kitchen because the thank you implied that he was doing me a favor and that was certainly not an attitude that I wanted to foster! I also didn't want to say thanks for things like putting away his own crap, er, I mean stuff, because it sort of sounds condescending, like you're training a child. While I might have felt this way in my heart, there was no need to let on.
Then a few weeks ago I found myself thanking Russ for something he had done in the kitchen. Honestly, the exact thing escapes me, but that's not the point, so pretend it was washing out all the plastic bags instead of piling them up by the sink. As I hollered, "Thanks for washing out the bags!" up the stairs, I was suddenly hit with a realization: I don't actually thank people for things for their benefit; it's for mine.
Saying, "Thank you" acknowledges the truth that I am not at all self-sufficient; that I actually am a dependent person. As much as I have always loved the song, "I am a rock; I am an island," it simply isn't true. I cannot get by in life without a community made up of family, friends and strangers. "Thank yous" both small and large open up the truth that I must accept grace as well as Grace.
Saying, "Thank you," seems pretty straightforward. Someone shares their chocolate with you and you say, "Thanks!" They pass the salt and you say, "Thanks." They move out of your way in the row of the movie theater and you say, "Thanks." Most of the time you don't even think about it, or possibly even notice if you said it.
I actually did start to think about it a few years back. I came to a point where there were certain things that I didn't want to say, "Thank you," for at all. I didn't want to thank my husband for doing certain things like, cleaning up the kitchen because the thank you implied that he was doing me a favor and that was certainly not an attitude that I wanted to foster! I also didn't want to say thanks for things like putting away his own crap, er, I mean stuff, because it sort of sounds condescending, like you're training a child. While I might have felt this way in my heart, there was no need to let on.
Then a few weeks ago I found myself thanking Russ for something he had done in the kitchen. Honestly, the exact thing escapes me, but that's not the point, so pretend it was washing out all the plastic bags instead of piling them up by the sink. As I hollered, "Thanks for washing out the bags!" up the stairs, I was suddenly hit with a realization: I don't actually thank people for things for their benefit; it's for mine.
Saying, "Thank you" acknowledges the truth that I am not at all self-sufficient; that I actually am a dependent person. As much as I have always loved the song, "I am a rock; I am an island," it simply isn't true. I cannot get by in life without a community made up of family, friends and strangers. "Thank yous" both small and large open up the truth that I must accept grace as well as Grace.
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