What I'm Thankful For

Several years ago, a few weeks before Thanksgiving, my company enclosed a slip of paper in our pay envelope with the heading, "What I'm Thankful For" and three lines below that. We were supposed to fill it out and post it on the cafeteria wall.

First of all, I cringed at the title. "What I'm Thankful For" is a dangling participle or something like that, but "That For Which I am Thankful" would have been little too formal and stuffy for the crowd who worked there. Secondly, it rankled me that I was restricted to only three lines. Being the rabble-rouser I am, I wrote a whole essay instead.

I got two-thirds the way through before other priorities pulled me away. I found the essay today in some old files and decided to finish it. Without further ado, here it is.

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WHAT I'M THANKFUL FOR

Soap, Tree Frogs, and Letters to the Editor

These sound like odd things to be thankful for, but I tend to look at the world from an odd perspective most days. Many folks will tell you they are thankful for their families, their health, their home, and their jobs. I too am thankful for these things, but much more also.

SOAP

Whenever I am shopping in Wal-Mart in the soap aisle, I am reminded of a story of a Russian doctor missionary planning for her first trip to the United States. She was worried about the availability of soap in the U.S. So, before she left, she spent three hours standing in line for the opportunity to purchase soap. Three hours just for the opportunity to enter the store! When she was allowed entry, she purchased all the seller had on the shelves...nine bars.

When she told this story to her host family here in the States and showed them her prized bars of soap, they chuckled. They loaded her in the car (which was in itself a wonderment to her) and took her to the local Wal-Mart. This was a small Wal-Mart, back before the era of the Wal-Mart Supercenters. She was stunned at the vast volume of goods available for sale. She thought Wal-Mart was a special store where only the elite were allowed to shop. She couldn't quite grasp the concept that not only was the common populace allowed to shop in such a well-stocked store, but there were other big stores similarly stocked just down the street...and they were in every little town in America.

So, as I gaze along the 20 running feet of shelf space devoted only to soap, different colors, fragrances, and formulas; bars, gels, or liquids; boxes, bottles or cases, I remember the missionary doctor, and I am thankful for soap.

TREE FROGS

Even though I live in the middle of town, (one block off the main drag, three blocks from the hospital), my house would still be considered a "rural" home by most U.S. standards. One would expect that it would be a quiet place to live. However, sitting on my front porch in the evening, there is a raucous cacophony of tree frogs singing their little tree frog chorus, drowning out the traffic noise. I'm thankful for the tree frogs because it is the only sound I hear.

What I don't hear each evening is the sound of fighter jets and exploding bombs. I think of all the people in the world who live in the daily terror of bombs exploding overhead. For the entirety of my existence on this little blue planet, I have never once feared that my home would be bombed. That's pretty awesome if you think about it. Lots of people have lots of grievances with our government, but for the last 100 years they have kept the skies above my house clear of bombers. Occasionally when a massive aircraft thunders low over my rooftop, I am assured that it is Life-Flight on the way to the hospital on a life-saving mission, not an enemy bomber on a life-threatening mission.

So, as I stand on my porch in the evenings hearing *only* tree frogs, I remember those people who are hearing bombs, and I am thankful for the tree frogs.

LETTERS TO THE EDITOR

The Letters to the Editor in any small-town newspaper are the finger on the pulse of what worries the local citizens. My paper has letters of thanks for support of a local charity drive, concerns that more people don’t read the Bible, and unhappiness about the route of the upcoming parade through town. There is an occasional gripe about local or national politics, but really it is all small stuff when looking at The Big Picture. Our local citizenry has such comfortable and secure lives that these are their biggest concerns.

They do not face abject poverty, widespread famine, or massive pestilence of any kind. They do not suffer under the oppressive rule of some ego-centric despot. They do not fear being taken away in the night for a wrong word said to the wrong person. They have the freedom to go about their daily lives, living and loving and eating and sleeping and raising their families in a pretty civilized community. They have the freedom to voice their opinions without retribution and public forum in which to do it.

So, as I read the third complaint about the pothole on Madison Street, I remember the millions of people who struggle each day to merely survive, and I am thankful for Letters to the Editor.

The United States can be a tough place to live, but not nearly as tough as other places. She has her share of warts that's for sure. There are some Good Folks and some Bad Actors; some good laws and some unjust laws; some nice places and some hellholes; but all in all, I am thankful I live here rather than anywhere else on Earth. I am thankful for my home, health, family and job. But I am also thankful for the little things: soap, tree frogs, and Letters to the Editor. They remind me that Life is Good.