So today I went out to feed my little bird friends. They become simply giddy when I fill the feeders, and I know this by the way they tweet their gratitude! “You are so very welcome,” I always say as I leave. Little wild birds have been a joy for me since I was a child. My Mom and Dad always had feeders in the yard, most of them built by Dad. Mom taught me that one need not always purchase birdseed as they love leftover goodies from the human’s kitchen. That last bit of cake no one will finish… ahh, the birds will love it! The crumbs at the bottom of the cereal bag! Yes! They will find the good there. Crackers? Of course! They have never been picky eaters though anytime we ever put out seed with that pitiful yellow millet in it, they would just toss that to get to the good stuff!!
Today as I filled the feeders to the brims, I remembered a time not so long ago when I stopped feeding the birds. I remember when I couldn’t afford birdseed, and while I could still feed myself, it wasn’t very often I had cake I could give them. I was a well-educated, healthy, faithful woman who could not land a job for two years. I stopped counting at 200 applications. I felt like I was evaporating into thin air. I felt the world had no place for me or for the gifts I eagerly wanted to share. I felt like a little bird with a beautiful song with only the woods to hear it.
Now, I have a professional job. By most standards, it is a good paying position, and I have the money to buy birdseed and cake. I can pay my bills. I can take my daughter out to eat. I can travel with ease to visit my family, because I not only have a car… but I have a new car and the money to put gas in it. And yet, tomorrow is November 25th and word has it that Publisher’s Clearing House will be awarding their big prize on that date. I played. I played this year. I put every little sticker in just the right place every single time the forms came. I licked and stamped each attempt to win the big bucks. And tomorrow, there is a part of me that hopes the doorbell will ring, and I will greet the flower-bearing, balloon twirling people who will tell me I am rich.
I realize that I truly have no need for a ka-million dollars. I realize that I am blessed beyond words to have what I have, to have a loving family, health, and a creative mind. But sometimes, I fall into the American trap that I deserve more. I got a new car instead of purchasing a house because I can’t afford to do both. I would like a new couch so I don’t feel like I’m sitting in a hole. I’d like to go on retreat or vacation, but who has three hundred or more dollars for a few days away? I don’t. I have enough money to take care of myself and offer a few generosities to others along the way. That’s the really frustrating part. If I had more… I would do so much more for others. I don’t really want to win Publisher’s Clearing House, because I would feel guilty for having too much. But I have wished lately I could have a bit more… mostly because it feels like most people do!
The other day I was in line at a store with a friend who was purchasing some items she will need for her upcoming move out of state. We were talking and laughing as we stood in this long line trying to pleasantly pass the time. I was, however, beginning to get annoyed because I highly dislike this particular store, and I was remembering why as we waited at one of the thirty check-out lines that were manned by only 3 clerks. My grumpiness quickly abated, however, when I noticed the man in front of us. When he finally got to the conveyer belt and began putting his purchases on it, I saw that he had no hands. He was lifting huge bags of dog food and big jugs of laundry detergent with the little bit of forearms that he had and he was obviously very independent. But all I could think was… “This man has no hands.” Of course, I wanted to offer to help, but he didn’t need my help or my pity. He was living his life, getting ready to feed his dog and take care of his laundry apparently.
But here’s the thing… how do we live alongside of our neighbors who have more than one house and more than one car and plenty of funds for travel and fun while some have no heat this winter and some barely have food? And how does a person like me who lives in the middle of these two extremes find peace? I cannot brag about the trip I’m not taking to Europe nor can I brag about the new car in the drive. It is a quandary, and it makes me feel sad and thankful all at the same time.
When Publisher’s Clearing House does not show up at my door tomorrow, I think I will sigh a long sigh… both of disappointment and relief. And then I will go out under the tree where the birds with fully bellies will be singing, and I will lift my two hands in praise. Gratitude seems the best practice.
Today as I filled the feeders to the brims, I remembered a time not so long ago when I stopped feeding the birds. I remember when I couldn’t afford birdseed, and while I could still feed myself, it wasn’t very often I had cake I could give them. I was a well-educated, healthy, faithful woman who could not land a job for two years. I stopped counting at 200 applications. I felt like I was evaporating into thin air. I felt the world had no place for me or for the gifts I eagerly wanted to share. I felt like a little bird with a beautiful song with only the woods to hear it.
Now, I have a professional job. By most standards, it is a good paying position, and I have the money to buy birdseed and cake. I can pay my bills. I can take my daughter out to eat. I can travel with ease to visit my family, because I not only have a car… but I have a new car and the money to put gas in it. And yet, tomorrow is November 25th and word has it that Publisher’s Clearing House will be awarding their big prize on that date. I played. I played this year. I put every little sticker in just the right place every single time the forms came. I licked and stamped each attempt to win the big bucks. And tomorrow, there is a part of me that hopes the doorbell will ring, and I will greet the flower-bearing, balloon twirling people who will tell me I am rich.
I realize that I truly have no need for a ka-million dollars. I realize that I am blessed beyond words to have what I have, to have a loving family, health, and a creative mind. But sometimes, I fall into the American trap that I deserve more. I got a new car instead of purchasing a house because I can’t afford to do both. I would like a new couch so I don’t feel like I’m sitting in a hole. I’d like to go on retreat or vacation, but who has three hundred or more dollars for a few days away? I don’t. I have enough money to take care of myself and offer a few generosities to others along the way. That’s the really frustrating part. If I had more… I would do so much more for others. I don’t really want to win Publisher’s Clearing House, because I would feel guilty for having too much. But I have wished lately I could have a bit more… mostly because it feels like most people do!
The other day I was in line at a store with a friend who was purchasing some items she will need for her upcoming move out of state. We were talking and laughing as we stood in this long line trying to pleasantly pass the time. I was, however, beginning to get annoyed because I highly dislike this particular store, and I was remembering why as we waited at one of the thirty check-out lines that were manned by only 3 clerks. My grumpiness quickly abated, however, when I noticed the man in front of us. When he finally got to the conveyer belt and began putting his purchases on it, I saw that he had no hands. He was lifting huge bags of dog food and big jugs of laundry detergent with the little bit of forearms that he had and he was obviously very independent. But all I could think was… “This man has no hands.” Of course, I wanted to offer to help, but he didn’t need my help or my pity. He was living his life, getting ready to feed his dog and take care of his laundry apparently.
But here’s the thing… how do we live alongside of our neighbors who have more than one house and more than one car and plenty of funds for travel and fun while some have no heat this winter and some barely have food? And how does a person like me who lives in the middle of these two extremes find peace? I cannot brag about the trip I’m not taking to Europe nor can I brag about the new car in the drive. It is a quandary, and it makes me feel sad and thankful all at the same time.
When Publisher’s Clearing House does not show up at my door tomorrow, I think I will sigh a long sigh… both of disappointment and relief. And then I will go out under the tree where the birds with fully bellies will be singing, and I will lift my two hands in praise. Gratitude seems the best practice.
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