I operate on the fundamental belief that mistakes should be admitted regardless of the ramifications. The risk of trying to cover up a mistake just isn’t worth it. I often yell at my favorite TV or Movie celebrities through the screen in a futile attempt to give them this advice. The stories that follow are not to condemn those who might be mentioned, but to show the maturation process God has taken me through.
The night my parents went out for their date night, I wasn’t expecting anything. I had no reason to believe some unwarranted blessing would materialize; however, sometimes luck becomes us. My parents left with the unprovoked offer that when they returned from their date night, I would have a surprise. For a seven year old boy, my mind began racing with possibilities. For the next several hours, my babysitter and I drew pictures of what this token might be. We told bedtime stories of what I would do with each specific option we had narrowed it down to over the evening. I stared at the ceiling after I was put to bed straining to hear the garage door open, the car doors slam and the return of my parents. They were possibly blocks away when I flew with a start out of bed and to the front door. I didn’t want to appear eager, but the butterflies were out of control.
I’m not sure what kind of date nights I’ll go on when I have a seven year old little boy but I’m curious if I’ll ever have a date night like my parents had that night. The truth is, they had innocently forgotten the “surprise” they had promised (seriously, what parent doesn’t have a slip of the memory from time to time). What they had purchased, inadvertently, were brand new, highly durable, ergonomically designed, complete-with-rolling-wheels trashcans for curbside pick up. In an effort to divert attention from their egregious oversight, these two shining trophies were presented as the promised gift in lieu of a surprise more fitting for an excited young lad. I was crushed.
Fast forward to the Christmas of my twelve grade year. There has to be some kind of grace for aunts and uncles who have no children – especially when they’re required to somehow conjure up ideas for six children of various ages. There is something flattering about being viewed as “grown up” – especially when you’re twelve. But at some point, “growing up” might just not be as cool as it sounds.
We have a tradition that, ever since my next sister under me was born, has put me at a disadvantage. The tradition is that on Christmas morning or any other time gifts are given, we open them one at a time – from youngest to oldest. Now that I’m 25, the agony of anticipation does not quite drive me to the brink of insanity like it did when I was twelve. I watched over and over again as my siblings opened their newfound treasures. I had two boxes sitting in front of me and, at my turn to unveil my gifts, I was exuberant to say the least.
What these two events taught me is the art of being grateful. Often, our expectations are not realized and even though our disappointment might be too much to handle, the obligation for our gratitude still remains. I’m reminded at Thanksgiving that God has provided above and beyond what I could possibly ask or imagine. Scripture says that God gives good gifts to His children – even if they don’t seem good at the time. I may have not been completely grateful for the nice ink pen and men’s manicure set, but I have an amazing family who I am proud to be related to. I guess my point is that I am incredibly grateful. Not just grateful for the things I expect (life, health, friends, job, basic needs met, etc.) but for the things I don’t expect or don’t fully understand yet. This kind of humility stems from an overarching trust that God will provide – regardless of if we expect or comprehend it in the moment.
