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Being Grateful.
Nov. 18th, 2003 08:59 pm* * * Warning: This post is rather long. It's very important to me, and I feel it's worth the read, but you may wish to wait until you have enough time to read it from beginning to end before you start.* * *
Tonight, right after work, I stopped at the grocery store to pick up some tv dinners. Nothing glamorous for me- just something cheap, tasty, and easy so I could keep up the pace on my artwork, the website, and whatever else I wanted to do tonight. I guess you could say that I don't lead an extravagant lifestyle. Odd then, that as of late, I have been feeling extremely thankful for my life and the blessings I have. Don't get me wrong here. This isn't really about faith. It's about perspective.
As I was leaving the store there was an extremely overweight woman seated in the entryway ringing a bell for the Salvation Army. I had seen her while I was finishing up with the cashier and had prepared a couple of dollars. Nothing much mind you - I'm no Daddy Warbucks. When I went to put the money in, I found the opening to the bucket terribly small. As a result, I found myself fumbling with the change and then the bills as well, trying to get them into the small container. In reality the whole act probably only took 15 seconds or so, but it felt like an eternity. Why? Because I felt like I was suddenly the 'focus'. The Bell-Lady kept saying "God bless you sir. God bless you very much." I couldn't think at that moment. I don't like being the focus of anyone's attention - at least when I am not ready for it. All I could think about was getting the damn money into the bucket, taking my bags of groceries and getting the hell out of the entryway.
The automatic door slid open and I was outside before my mind settled on the right response.
"He already has. Many times over."
I'm going to say it again: This isn't about faith. It's about perspective.
I couldn't tell you really why I was thinking that way. I just know that it 'felt right'. I got in my car feeling rather content and made my way home. Once home, I put the tv dinners in the fridge, fired one into the microwave, took out the trash, and settled in front of my beloved 'brain drain' (as Kar0na calls it).
I've been out of touch with one of my dearest friends for a couple of years now. We'll call him "V". I won't bore you with all the sundry details as to why I haven't spoken to V in so long, but let it suffice to say it's not because we had some kind of 'falling out'.
Shortly after settling in to drain my brain, I received the news that V is in a rehabilitation hospital and is "permanently bedridden". V has Multiple Sclerosis and has had it for some time. It has affected him off and on over the years with increasing severity. I should have guessed that I would wind up catching up to V in a hospital somewhere, but I just kept thinking that he might just be enough of a stubborn son-of-a-bitch to be some kind of 'miracle child' and beat the disease cold. Unrealistic? Perhaps. But those of you who know V know that if stubborn is the key - he's the guy to get the job done.
Next part of the problem. V has never been one to get along with his own family. Thus, I had no contact info for anyone who might know which room he was in, or who could give him a message directly. I called the rehab center, and a nurse there was kind enough to take a message to give to him. You see, I couldn't ask for his room directly. To say that V is a proud man is an understatement that defies expression. He has told me on more than one occasion that I know how he thinks better than anyone else on the planet. I know that there's a huge part of V that doesn't want visitors now. He doesn't want people to see him like this. He's afraid to show that kind of 'weakness' (his word - not mine). I got a little nervous when the nurse told me that "His memory's not that good, so he may not remember." So I left my message with my name and number, and I waited.
Ben (my brother for those of you who don't know) came home and I told him the news. He too has known V for a long time, and his decision was much more firm: "Well, I'm going to see him later this week. You're more than welcome to join me - or not, if you'd rather. But I'm going."
I love that about Ben. No one can ever call him 'wishy washy'. I wish I could have been so certain. I'm the king of 'wishy washy'. But what's more important to me is that V's voice kept ringing in my ears telling me that I knew him better than anyone, and that he wouldn't want visitors now.
Then V called.
I was ecstatic. I knew immediately that he wanted company. He wouldn't have called if he didn't. It was a weird conversation, but I was very happy to have it. I found myself laughing too hard at things that weren't that funny. I found myself talking really fast and sounding (to my own ears anyway) like a bubblehead. I didn't know what to say but dammit- I was glad to say it.
I was just happy that he wanted to be seen.
Which pretty much brings me to right now. I find myself thinking. I find myself thinking about what's ahead. I find myself thinking about Thanksgiving and then shortly thereafter - the insanity of the holidays. In a great many ways I could even go so far as to say that the holiday season sickens me. There are radio stations that are already playing holiday music 24/7. Need I point out that it's not even Thanksgiving yet?!?! Don't get me wrong - I like Christmas carols as much as the next guy - maybe more. I just can't shake the little voice in my head that tells me: "Yeah, but they wouldn't do it if it wasn't for that Almighty Dollar." How much of the American population really celebrates Christmas or Chanukah or any of the others (sorry for my ignorance folks) in their 'true sense'? I'm not talking about 5 minutes of prayer before spending 7 gluttonous hours unwrapping presents. I'm not talking about a child saying a couple of memorized (but unappreciated) words before an enormous feast is devoured. I'm talking about the (theoretical) reasons for the holidays. We've made it into something else. Something far less important than family and friends and giving a damn about our fellow man.
I would just like to say this: This holiday season, when you're running around - letting the insanity of the malls-and-the-shopping-and-the-eating-and-the-'company's going to be here in five minutes!' get to you - stop. Take a breath. Give thanks. It doesn't have to be to a God or gods or goddess of any kind. Give thanks to your parents for giving you life. Give thanks to yourself for getting you this far. Give thanks for all the little blessings that we overlook every day without batting an eyelash.
It might just change your perspective.
I welcome your thoughts.
Tonight, right after work, I stopped at the grocery store to pick up some tv dinners. Nothing glamorous for me- just something cheap, tasty, and easy so I could keep up the pace on my artwork, the website, and whatever else I wanted to do tonight. I guess you could say that I don't lead an extravagant lifestyle. Odd then, that as of late, I have been feeling extremely thankful for my life and the blessings I have. Don't get me wrong here. This isn't really about faith. It's about perspective.
As I was leaving the store there was an extremely overweight woman seated in the entryway ringing a bell for the Salvation Army. I had seen her while I was finishing up with the cashier and had prepared a couple of dollars. Nothing much mind you - I'm no Daddy Warbucks. When I went to put the money in, I found the opening to the bucket terribly small. As a result, I found myself fumbling with the change and then the bills as well, trying to get them into the small container. In reality the whole act probably only took 15 seconds or so, but it felt like an eternity. Why? Because I felt like I was suddenly the 'focus'. The Bell-Lady kept saying "God bless you sir. God bless you very much." I couldn't think at that moment. I don't like being the focus of anyone's attention - at least when I am not ready for it. All I could think about was getting the damn money into the bucket, taking my bags of groceries and getting the hell out of the entryway.
The automatic door slid open and I was outside before my mind settled on the right response.
"He already has. Many times over."
I'm going to say it again: This isn't about faith. It's about perspective.
I couldn't tell you really why I was thinking that way. I just know that it 'felt right'. I got in my car feeling rather content and made my way home. Once home, I put the tv dinners in the fridge, fired one into the microwave, took out the trash, and settled in front of my beloved 'brain drain' (as Kar0na calls it).
I've been out of touch with one of my dearest friends for a couple of years now. We'll call him "V". I won't bore you with all the sundry details as to why I haven't spoken to V in so long, but let it suffice to say it's not because we had some kind of 'falling out'.
Shortly after settling in to drain my brain, I received the news that V is in a rehabilitation hospital and is "permanently bedridden". V has Multiple Sclerosis and has had it for some time. It has affected him off and on over the years with increasing severity. I should have guessed that I would wind up catching up to V in a hospital somewhere, but I just kept thinking that he might just be enough of a stubborn son-of-a-bitch to be some kind of 'miracle child' and beat the disease cold. Unrealistic? Perhaps. But those of you who know V know that if stubborn is the key - he's the guy to get the job done.
Next part of the problem. V has never been one to get along with his own family. Thus, I had no contact info for anyone who might know which room he was in, or who could give him a message directly. I called the rehab center, and a nurse there was kind enough to take a message to give to him. You see, I couldn't ask for his room directly. To say that V is a proud man is an understatement that defies expression. He has told me on more than one occasion that I know how he thinks better than anyone else on the planet. I know that there's a huge part of V that doesn't want visitors now. He doesn't want people to see him like this. He's afraid to show that kind of 'weakness' (his word - not mine). I got a little nervous when the nurse told me that "His memory's not that good, so he may not remember." So I left my message with my name and number, and I waited.
Ben (my brother for those of you who don't know) came home and I told him the news. He too has known V for a long time, and his decision was much more firm: "Well, I'm going to see him later this week. You're more than welcome to join me - or not, if you'd rather. But I'm going."
I love that about Ben. No one can ever call him 'wishy washy'. I wish I could have been so certain. I'm the king of 'wishy washy'. But what's more important to me is that V's voice kept ringing in my ears telling me that I knew him better than anyone, and that he wouldn't want visitors now.
Then V called.
I was ecstatic. I knew immediately that he wanted company. He wouldn't have called if he didn't. It was a weird conversation, but I was very happy to have it. I found myself laughing too hard at things that weren't that funny. I found myself talking really fast and sounding (to my own ears anyway) like a bubblehead. I didn't know what to say but dammit- I was glad to say it.
I was just happy that he wanted to be seen.
Which pretty much brings me to right now. I find myself thinking. I find myself thinking about what's ahead. I find myself thinking about Thanksgiving and then shortly thereafter - the insanity of the holidays. In a great many ways I could even go so far as to say that the holiday season sickens me. There are radio stations that are already playing holiday music 24/7. Need I point out that it's not even Thanksgiving yet?!?! Don't get me wrong - I like Christmas carols as much as the next guy - maybe more. I just can't shake the little voice in my head that tells me: "Yeah, but they wouldn't do it if it wasn't for that Almighty Dollar." How much of the American population really celebrates Christmas or Chanukah or any of the others (sorry for my ignorance folks) in their 'true sense'? I'm not talking about 5 minutes of prayer before spending 7 gluttonous hours unwrapping presents. I'm not talking about a child saying a couple of memorized (but unappreciated) words before an enormous feast is devoured. I'm talking about the (theoretical) reasons for the holidays. We've made it into something else. Something far less important than family and friends and giving a damn about our fellow man.
I would just like to say this: This holiday season, when you're running around - letting the insanity of the malls-and-the-shopping-and-the-eating-and-the-'company's going to be here in five minutes!' get to you - stop. Take a breath. Give thanks. It doesn't have to be to a God or gods or goddess of any kind. Give thanks to your parents for giving you life. Give thanks to yourself for getting you this far. Give thanks for all the little blessings that we overlook every day without batting an eyelash.
It might just change your perspective.
I welcome your thoughts.
