Some things I vowed I’d never say to my children. Like this one.
“Don’t waste those waffles, girls. Did you know there are kids starving in Africa??”
“What?” My younger daughter, age four at the time, looked up at me and crinkled her nose.
“In Africa. And all sort of other places around the world. Even here in our own country! Not all kids get to eat as much as you do.”
“But I don’t want waffles! I wanted cereal!” My seven-year-old whined.
“Too bad. Eat the waffles. Some children are lucky if they get a bowl of rice—and that’s all they eat for the whole day. Be grateful.”
“So? Rice is healthy for you.”
Heaven help me.
I’m big on instilling a sense of gratitude in my kids. At times they seem to demand entitlement, as if food and toys and iPad games are their birthright rather than a blessing. Sure, they say please and thank you, but they have no earthly clue how fortunate they are. How some children on this planet can beg pretty please with a cherry on top from dawn to dusk, but that won’t make a taco casserole appear magically on their plates.
My children won’t touch my taco casserole.
And I’ve decided there’s something wrong with that on a deeper level.
Gratitude.
True appreciation for our bounty and comfort.
It’s lost on my kids.
Why?
Probably because I haven’t sought it for them.
When I sit down to a full meal of fresh grilled chicken, roasted potatoes and buttery corn on the cob, do I see the richness on my table or am I just thinking ahead to the dishes?
If my closet looks drab and I can’t afford a Stitch Fix, do I praise God for a dozen pairs of shoes when some people have none?
When my Wi-Fi barfs for 20 minutes, do I take it as an opportunity to appreciate the other 23 hours and 40 minutes per day that it functioned just fine, or will I growl at my laptop as if it’s my God-given right to be connected?
And when my sweet husband scoops up a double dish of salted caramel truffle ice cream and sets it in front of my face as a loving gesture, do I fret over the extra calories or for once in my well-fed life can I just enjoy the indulgence as a gift many people will never, ever taste?
So my kids are ungrateful, eh? Maybe they learned it from their mother.
Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus (1 Thessalonians 5:16–18).
God wants us to be thankful. He wants us to pray. He wants us to rejoice. It’s no coincidence those three things are tied together. Maybe the first step to growing grateful children is joy. Take pleasure in what you have. Then pray. Stay in tune with the God who gives all good things. And this will lead to gratitude—not a forced, obligatory, what do you say, children? kind of thanks, but a genuine, natural outpouring of the faith within us.
When we really know what awesome grace God has lavished on us, we won’t be able to contain ourselves. We’ll be busting from the hairline with thanksgiving.
Wow. I don’t just want that for my kids. I want it for me, too.
“Mom, I ate my waffle. Can I have some cereal now?” My seven-year-old handed me her empty plate. “Please?”
“Yes, you may.”
“Momma?” She spread her arms for a hug.
“What, sweetheart?”
“Thank you for making my breakfast.”
“You’re welcome, my love.” I squeezed her hard. “But do you know who really deserves a thank you? God.”
“Oh, yeah!” My four-year-old piped up. “He gives us money so we can buy waffles, right, Mom?”
“He does.” I smiled.
“Well next time,” she wagged her finger, “let’s ask him for the blueberry ones. I like those better.”
{Sigh . . .} Yep.
Gratitude.
We’re still working on it.
Are you?
Blessings,
Becky
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