No, really, thanks!
Have you ever stopped to think about how a person says thank you? It can really say a lot for the person.
A belief that grounds everything I say and do, and even further drives me as a person, is just that simple. It is gratitude. Everywhere I go, you can bet I will say thank you for however or whatever. I even thank people for the silliest stuff. Some people may see this as being a people-pleaser, and it used to bother me. But, who cares? I know this is not why I am so thankful. At the heart of this overly thankful person is someone who really is grateful. At the very heart of this grateful person is someone much different than you may be able to even guess.
It usually shocks my friends once I tell them. Most of the time, this conversation begins with them asking about my parents. Instantly I think about it, hmmm, my parents. Which ones? My real parents I do not know or my parents who raised me? From here, a puzzled look comes across their face and it seems I always get the same reaction, “I would have never guessed.”
At the age of three, my parents deserted my brother and me, for perhaps a more attractive, drug infested, or alcoholic lifestyle. Being concerned for our safety, my aunt knew it was time she did something, so she called DHR.
DHR thought we belonged in foster care, but my aunt knew differently. She persuaded them to let her have us for at least the night. All the while, I screamed and cried for a mommy who didn’t even care if I existed. A court date was set, and a few months later the judge declared we were to be under the care of my aunt and uncle. As for my real parents, my mom never showed up, and my dad? He wasn’t sober enough to count.
As I have gotten older and have learned more and more of the details of the people who were supposed to be my parents, I have begun to realize how truly blessed I am. While I sit in the middle of my college years, I listen to friends complain about school and the great expectations their parents count out of them. Why don’t they see how lucky they are? Haven’t they ever stopped to say thank you for it all? For their at least somewhat normal families, their car, their clothes, their college education they just want to throw away? For what? Can’t they see it? Can’t they see God is blessing them?
You know, I don’t care if you think I’m silly for saying thank you. I don’t care if I say thank you three times, when it’s needed only once. Who cares if I believe in saying thanks for it all? Maybe I just want to say thank you.
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