Gratitude (song) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I schedule to leave for my kids PTA meeting and singing performance at 4. I maintain a weak boundary. Two conversations and a couple of emails later I leave at 4:36. I’m harried.
I get to the glass doors to leave. The sky opened up between the time I planned to leave and the time I finally leave. The rain is Biblical. It pours with ferocity. I walk 200 yards to my car. My pants and shoes are drenched. My boxers are wet; despite using an umbrella.
I drive through the deluge. I make it home. I change into flip flops and shorts, admitting the impossibility of staying dry. I make it to the PTA meeting and concert.
The next day, the power steering on my car doesn’t work. This disrupts my day’s plan. I was headed to the office at 5:30am to get work done in advance of a calendar saturated with meetings. Instead of arriving before 6, I drop the car off at my mechanic and work from home for an hour amid the din of two 6 year olds and my wife getting ready.
My wife, Jen, and I co-commute. The rain is still torrential. I bring her to her office, going 6 miles out of my way. In the past this might have irritated me. I’m a little grumbly but calm and accepting.
I drop Jen off. I start toward my work. It’s cold out. Really crappy. I feel the warmth of my seat. It’s heated.
The rain and cold continue for days. Driving around, my heart breaks as I drive past people who are on bus stops or walking without even an umbrella.
In church the following Sunday, my friend Mitch is standing next to me in the pew. Mitch experienced a traumatic brain injury at 22. He’s in his early 30s. He hasn’t worked since the injury. It’s possible he might not be able to. He’s on full disability. Mitch moved out of his family’s house just a few months ago. He’s learning how to take care of himself living in a group home. There are plenty of mistakes and learning opportunities for him. He’s given his identity info to others. Usernames, passwords, SSN. His clothes have been stolen from him at his new house. He is at the mercy of this world, it’s bureaucracies and it’s broken people.
I tend to get teary in church. Often in a sad way. A distant pain I can’t put a finger on. This is especially true when the music’s playing and we’re singing.
I learned recently what we think are feelings are decisions. We have a vague and general set of emotions. Life experiences and stories mixed with our predictive and heuristic tendencies turn these into meaningful feelings. We can stop ourselves while our feelings emerge and ask “What’s going on here? What am I reacting to? Is there a different way I can frame this?”
This is something I’m working on. Like walking on ice, I slip often and bruise myself. But I’ve noticed it can work. I can re-write who I am and how I respond when I disrupt the feeling and change the meaning. It’s profound when it happens.
Mitch is next to me. He has no car. He barely has a home. I’m standing next to him singing a hymn with tears welling up. I stop myself to back away from the vague and general emotion. I reframe the sadness into something resembling joy. The reframe frees me. I’m struck by how much I have to be grateful for.
I realize gratitude is the source of nearly all personal power. Gratitude is required for joy. Gratitude is required for deeply welled and flowing, cheerful generosity. Gratitude is required to receive grace. Gratitude makes it easier to forgive – others and one’s self. Gratitude positions us to perceive abundance instead of scarcity.
Gratitude is power.
In the last month I’ve realized I own a coat when it’s 22 degrees. I have an umbrella during flash flood conditions. I have a second car – It has heated seats! I have a wife who loves me, good kids. My house is heated and has a good roof.
Every time I remember these good things, I’m in a place of power. I am in a place of abundance. I am in a place of joy. I am grateful. What a beautiful source of strength and power.
The work ahead is turning this into my steady state.
