I’m relatively convinced of something that I can’t necessarily prove.
The more abundance we live in, the harder it is to be grateful.
Which is kind of crazy when we think about it – the more we have, you’d think the more we have to be grateful for. I’m not sure that’s the case.
Dorothy Bass wrote “Without a fast, it’s hard to recognize a feast.” These words haunt me, probably because I hardly ever fast while I feast pretty much all the time, but also because I think the larger truth found in those words echoes in the chambers of much larger others areas of my life.
I can attest for this in my own life – and non-scientifically attest for it in the lives of others.
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I remember very vividly back in 2009 when we lived in our first house – a tiny rowhome, all 840 square feet of it spread over 3 floors. We just had our first child, my wife wasn’t working, and I was earning maybe $35,000 a year.
One day over the summer we received a piece of mail. It was a simple, non-descript greeting card which said “Jeremy and Lydia – I wanted to bless you with this.” And it included two 100 dollar bills. The friend who sent it to me didn’t really know our financial situation – and although we didn’t earn a lot, we weren’t necessarily hurting. But this $200 floored us. I cried in gratitude. It was such a nice, generous, spontaneous token of love. It meant the world to us. (Perhaps ironically – I don’t even remember what we ended up using the $200 for.)
If I were to receive a $200 free gift of cash today (or even the inflation-adjusted equivalent amount) – it would mean something, no doubt. But I doubt it would carry quite the power of what the gift did from 2009. I may have changed over time, but our financial circumstances most certainly have changed. And with that change, I feel we lost a bit of gratitude sensitivity.
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I recently started an ongoing thread of sorts on Twitter. Nothing overly special, more of a social experiment with public accountability to see if I can try and notice every-day things that I take for granted. It’s pretty new, and I have no idea how long I’ll continue doing it, but it’s been a fun challenge to try and see things around me I’m not typically grateful for, but are tremendous blessings.
In that light, here’s another quick experiment. I’m going to walk through a typical day in my life, and point out things that are tremendous blessings that I don’t think about as such on a regular basis.
I wake up in a bed with sheets and covers and multiple pillows.
Not a cot. Not a floor, a cardboard box, nor a mosquito-infested shack.
Next to an amazing woman (who somehow decided it was a good idea to marry me.)
Not the memory of a deceased spouse, nor alone.
I pivot out of bed onto my feet and walk.
Not crawl. Not pull myself into a wheelchair, nor next to a walker.
I put on clothing, and spend a few seconds debating which pair of sweatpants to wear.
Not relegated to a single pair of clothing I sleep, play, and work in.
I walk past the bedrooms of healthy kids sleeping.
Not hospital rooms. Not sick kids, missing kids, nor the empty-rooms of desired kids.
I sneak down the stairs and adjust the thermostat.
Not worrying about the functionality of a furnace to heat our house nor the ability to pay for the fuel to power it.
And this is what – the first 60 seconds? I literally could go on for hours with this kind of perception. Electricity. Reliable transportation. Clean water. Books. Bank accounts. Cell phones. Television. Friends.
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I’m not proposing much of an answer here – because truthfully, I’m not sure I have a good one.
I do, however, think I have at least an idea of how to better appreciate things in an age and life of abundance, an age and life where we metaphorically and literally feast on most things.
Fasting.
In proportion. (Although more extreme fasting isn’t a terrible idea either). A few examples:
Carl Richards has recently been challenging people to take cold showers – or at least 90 seconds of a cold shower. I’ve done this a few times – and will admit I feel better afterwards – but it’s actually had another effect: it’s made me appreciate the warmth and steam of the normal shower even more. What if we did this on a regular basis? Get a purposefully cold shower – if not for the purpose of health and well-being – but just for the reason to appreciate the warmness next time?
Another – perhaps more obvious – example can be made about food. Most of us have an abundance of food in our homes. We largely have to worry about food spoiling more than we worry about running out of it. And we eat. A lot. What if we skipped a meal – or two? What if we purposefully developed a bit of hunger – so that the next time we do eat, that food tastes all the richer?
Or what about our leisure activities? The time we kick back, Netflix and chill (or whatever else)? What if instead of doing this every night – or at least on a regular basis – we limited it? We purposefully restrain the leisure so that it doesn’t as much become an expectation, but an exception. Would it increase our appreciation?
Or going out to eat? What if instead of it being a standard, it became a treat? A special exception to the rule? Would we appreciate that time all the more?
Or that dessert? Or that latte? Or that glass of wine? Or anything else we regularly, systematically enjoy?
Maybe it would increase the specialty of it. (Hint: it does.)
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A quick note. Abundance is relative. Wealth is relative. We all know someone who is a bit richer, who is a few rungs higher on the wealth ladder, who earns more money than us. Want to do a quick gut check? Go to www.globalrichlist.com [Edit: this site is no longer live, but here is one that is similar.) and punch in either your income or your net worth. This database will show you what percentage you are within the global wealth spectrum of individuals.
I’m all but certain that if you’re reading this – you’re at least somewhat like me in this regard. We have abundance, even if we know of someone who has even more. We have excess. We have the ability and the probability to regularly feast. There is a high degree of certainty there are things in each of our lives that are true gifts that others don’t have. Things that we do or receive or experience on a daily or regular basis that others only dream of doing or receiving or experiencing themselves.
And we shouldn’t feel guilty about that – we should just try and be aware of it. To be grateful for it.
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In an ideal world, we’d be able to flip a switch and just mentally note the blessings that surround us. But that doesn’t come naturally – it requires some discipline, and even then the gratitude is slippery to hold onto. It’s doable, and some people may be better at it than others, but maybe physical actions can help. A liturgy of gratitude, so to say.
Maybe like fasting.
And maybe we can purposefully build not just more gratitude within our abundance, but even build an abundance of gratitude.
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