...more, please...

I’ve tried to teach my children to be grateful and to express gratitude when having been given a gift. When they were generously given sports drinks (which I rarely buy), while at the home of a friend recently, not one, but TWO of them asked for a second. I was so embarrassed at such a display of poor manners. I realize their behavior is the result of my teaching, or failure to teach, as the case may be. I understand them, though. I receive gifts all the time. Then I ask for more, please. I’m sad because I didn’t get as much as I wanted. I’m disappointed I didn’t have it as long as I wanted. It wasn’t the exact kind I wanted. I’m unhappy because I’m ungrateful. I’ve had a three decade long marriage to a man who loved me. I’ve given birth to nine beautiful children. I’m not unintelligent. Father in Heaven has blessed me with many gifts, for which I'm grateful. I should be only grateful. I shouldn’t feel sorry for myself for some intermittent sorrow, now should I? The other evening I accompanied a friend on a shopping trip, of sorts. On the way home, I sang a few songs, most of which had been taught to me by my sister, Melinda, who was killed by a drunk driver in 1989. I could sit here and be sad that Melinda was taken too soon, after a difficult life…and that she never really found peace or fulfillment of joy in mortality… Or, I can sing the songs she taught me. I can teach my children to sing. I can remember her fondly and often (as I do), and be glad I had her in my life for the first 21 years of it. Last night, I watched a movie with my 27 year old son who has cerebral palsy. He and I could have complained that we were both home, lonely, with nothing to do except watch “Saving Mr. Banks” (good movie, might I add). Instead, we rejoiced together that we have each other, we love each other (and DVR is such a cool thing!). I recently revisited the brief life of my infant daughter, Heather…and her grave. As with so many things, I can (and have), mourn for that which I held briefly in the palm of my hand, and now have lost… I can also be glad for the moments shared; the brief, but very sweet expression of love and feeling of belonging; togetherness. It’s hard to do sometimes, honestly. Sometimes, in the moments surrounding loss, it’s very difficult to focus on that which is sweet; hidden within the bitterness of the pill one must swallow. When the sweet has gone from my mouth and all that is left is the memory of it, I long for the taste once more… In that moment when the child wants more; he is sad and unfulfilled. He is ungrateful. It’s a type of behavior inherent in all human beings; easily identified in childlike behavior. It’s not so easy to identify in ourselves. I’m trying to be not sad; ungrateful. I’m trying to be grateful for what I’ve had, instead of whining because of what’s gone. I’m trying to be thankful for what I do have. There really is so much for which to be thankful...even if sometimes not as much as I think I want, or more...