Thankfulness

by PD

A man who as a physical being is always turned toward the outside, thinking that his happiness lies outside him, finally turns inward and discovers that the source is within him.
-Soren Kierkegaard

It almost makes me feel embittered when I offer someone something and they completely take advantage of my propensity to give.  Whether it’s the homeless man who asks (in quick succession) for first a quarter, then a dollar, then five or that person who borrowed my CTA card once then kept using it or the people to whom I offer a snack, who end up raiding my kitchen for as much as they can, it makes me feel anxious and upset–if not downright angry–that the gluttons operate on such a “because it’s there” mentality, as if that justifies their every acquisition.  They disregard all manner of courtesy and take unabashedly their mile-long tithe for their inch-valued existence.  I don’t mind being a provider–I enjoy being the succor for the needs of my compatriots… until I realize I am being taken as the sucker for their every whim.

It makes me want to stop giving altogether.  Why should I let myself be the provider when they have done nothing to merit, nothing to deserve, nothing to express their appreciation of my above-and-beyond generous charity?  I feel walked-over and worthless, surrounded by circling vultures, waiting for me to give in to my inevitable destiny.

What did I do to deserve this?

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Reluctantly, I force myself to consider the converse of my appeal to a higher authority:  What did I deserve to do this?  Although the wording may be somewhat convoluted, it forces me to reconsider my frame of mind.  As I paraphrase Kierkegaard, sometimes one has to look inward to find life’s answers.  What have I done to deserve all the kindnesses, gifts, and sacrifices I have received through the course of my barely-begun life?  Did I repay all those who offered their generosity?  Surely not.  And I know at times I have abused the hospitality, taken more than I was given of and from those who saw fit to laud me prematurely (and certainly undeservedly) with their overwhelming magnanimity.

I know I’ll never be able to repay them all.  But what do I do to thank them?

I whine about somebody eating the last of my cocoa almonds.

Here I am complaining about the gluttony of others when I myself have been stuffing my face with unwarranted benevolence.  My prideful rant shames me.

So how do I correct my misdeeds?  I know I can never “pay back” the sacrifices my parents have made for me, the faith my friends have had in me, the patience and overwhelming forgivingness my grandparents, brother, girlfriend, and the rest of my family have had for me.  I have to express my thankfulness in a different way–what they have given me is not something to be repaid, but rather something to be fulfilled.  If I ever want to even hold a candle to the inferno bequest unto me, I have to recognize these gifts and apply them and myself to make them worthwhile.  I may never justify them completely, but I owe it to my many benefactors, from the professors who have made exceptions for me to my ceaselessly forgiving family and friends, to dedicate my life to realizing their hopes for me.

It is my burden–nay, responsibility–to express my thankfulness through action, to become a better person, to work to achieve, and to pay forward their kindness.  To you, loved ones, I’m sorry it’s taking me so long to realize this.

And please, weary traveler, help yourself to the cocoa almonds.

thanks, jesse, for the insight and inspiration to write this.