By Colleen Pulley
I was going through some old files the other day, and came across a school sheet that one of my daughter’s did on the subject of Thanksgiving. This work sheet was done when she was in second grade. The crooked lettering stated, “I am grateful for the Pilgrims, and the first Thanksgiving.” It showed a big table filled with food, and the Indians and Pilgrims were all holding hands and smiling. The simple message reminded me that Gratitude and Giving are just as important now as it was then.
As the end of 2023 approaches, it reminds me that once again we are given the chance to reflect upon the many blessings we enjoy, and the things that enrich. The question is do we really understand how important it is to express gratitude, and share our blessings with others?
It is easy to get a false sense of giving during this time of year. There are community drives for canned foods, and Salvation Army bell ringers at every corner. There are the telephone calls from the fire department asking for donations. We give a few coins, or cans, or a toy, and pat ourselves on the back saying, what a good fellow I am. But are we really?
Gratitude and generosity are things that can be done, no matter who or where we are. Deepak Chopra often brings up the importance of the Giving attitude in our lives. We give and are grateful for all that we have, and in return, our lives are enriched. We have a sense of increased well-being.
We don’t think that a small child can understand the concept of giving and gratitude, but we are wrong. Some of the greatest lessons of life we learn as a little child. One reason is that these are our first lessons, and for this reason they have a great impact on our minds.
I remember when I was in about first grade. My Mother had been given a large box of scrap material from a friend. She lovingly washed the material, and cut it into squares. She started this project at the beginning of Summer. The quilt tops were pieced into colorful panels, big enough to fit a single bed. There was enough material for my mother to piece together three quilts. There were three girls in our family, and of course I assumed the quilts were meant for us.
I secretly picked out the quilt that I wanted after it was hung up on the big frame and work began on it. I was always there to touch and run my fingers over the tiny stitches. “This one I like most Mommy” I would say.
She would smile, and answer “Yes. This is an awfully pretty one, isn’t it?” I would smile, knowing she had gotten the hint that it was the one I wanted for my room.
The work on the quilts progressed through the Summer, into the Fall, and finally, by Christmas, they were finished. They were slid into big plastic bags from the cleaners, and stored in Mother’s closet. I would wander into her room, and invariably I would open the closet and look at my lovely quilt, thinking this was going to be the best Christmas ever.
In the meantime, Mother had started making her famous Christmas jellies, cookies, and fruitcakes. The house was filled with the smells of the season. Mother always prepared big baskets, and we would fill them with goodies. As a family, we would load the baskets, and usually some gifts into the car and drop them off at the homes of needy families in the community.
This Christmas was no different, except when we were loading the things into the car, my mother brought out the three beautiful quilts she had lovingly stitched over the months. I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “But Mommy, what are you doing with my quilt?”
My Mother stopped and sat the quilt down. “No Colleen, there is a little girl about your age that this quilt is going to today. Her Mommy died, and her Daddy has to work long hours to take care of his family. This quilt will brighten up her room, and make her happy.”
“But what about me? I want the pretty quilt for my room.” I cried.
Mother put her arms around me and whispered, “Yes, I know that, but you have a Mommy who can make a quilt for you.”
We had always given our gifts anonymously, watching from our car. I watched the faces of the family light up, and tears form in the father’s eyes as he took the gifts into the house. As the gifts were taken into the home, a warm feeling replaced the anger that I felt. I knew how much the little girl would love the quilt.
Years passed, and my mother did make me other beautiful quilts. The memory faded, but like the lost penny, it returned. I was entering high school, and had made friends with a new girl. It was the first time I had gone to her home to visit. She opened her bedroom door and I stood there speechless. There on her bed was my mother’s quilt.
She smiled when she saw me staring at her quilt. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? The first Christmas after my mother died, a family at church left it on our porch, along with the most wonderful Christmas basket filled with goodies. It made Christmas so wonderful, for a family that was feeling the pain of their mother’s death.” she said. “Because of it I decided the most important thing I could do was give to others as much as was given to me.”
In that moment I knew my mother had taught me the true meaning of gratitude, as well as what it means to be a giving person. I told my friend that the quilt was indeed the most beautiful I had ever seen. The secret who gave that gift so long ago remained a secret.
My Mother is long dead, but the impact on the lives of others far out shines her giving act of the moment. I try to keep that attitude of giving and gratitude for the things I have been given with me. When we are grateful and give to others, the world becomes a better place.
I hope this holiday season, starting with Thanksgiving, helps remind you and inspire you to be grateful and give abundantly to those you come in contact with. To your success in this endeavor and your joy in giving, until next time…..Colleen
Key Words – Thanksgiving, Pilgrims, gratitude, giving, blessings, My Mother, quilts, Christmas, given our gifts anonymously
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