Gratitude

 

"I have so much to thank my Jesus for,
since I've been a soldier in this Holy War.
I count my blessings one by one,
Just to see what God has done.
I have so much to thank my Jesus for."

Through the fog of childhood memories, early in the morning, I can hear Mother singing.  No matter the condition our lives were in---finances, provisions, or peace---Mother sang this song of thanksgiving. I'd lie in bed wondering how much"so much" weighed and what the list of blessings included  Did she know that much more than I? Didn't she realize we were poor?

Evidently, she did not since she sang that song, along with countless other hymns of praise all my life.  When I started attending Sunday school and especially after I learned about Pentecost, a seminal question rang.  I knew she spoke English.  Had she done as onlookers had accused people who began speaking in "other tongues" on the day of Pentecost?  Was Mother "filled with new wine"? No, she couldn't be! Both teetotalers, my parents never even allowed Mogen David (wine) in our home!

What, then, accounted for her bedrock assurance that she had many reasons for which to thank Jesus? Of course, as a kid, I had learned about Jesus, the Son of God.  I'd seen picture cards of him kneeling, hands folded, and leaning on a big rock in what looked like a park.   Right before soldiers came and arrested him.  No, I didn't really understand all that had happened that night.  He was crucified the next day,  hands and feet nailed to "that old rugged cross. Leaving 12 disciples scared and sad.

I remember our entire Church celebrating "Easter Sunday," with the special program my friends and I had rehearsed for, weeks before Easter.  Mother always provided a feast that included pineapple-festooned ham, potato salad, green peas, macaroni and cheese---all kinds of side dishes.  And don't forget the desserts: coconut layer cakes, pound cakes, banana pudding, sweet potato pies, and jello molds filled with mixed fruits.

I don't recall when the nexus between the Crucifixion, Resurrection,  and Thanksgiving merged.  I can remember when the sense and sensibility of Mother's unrelenting gratitude settled over me like a soft cape.  Finally, life intruded and forced my eyes open.  I began not only to look but to see.  Without Mother explaining her reasons in words (her actions thundered!), once I'd lived long enough, I saw how she could thank God in the face of lack and disappointments.  In fact, gratitude seemed the only way Mother maintained the faith and hope she jealously guarded. Mahalia Jackson sang,

"The only hope we have is in Jesus.
Confusion is great I this world today.
Persecution may come with such a heavyweight,
But we have this hope and it's in Jesus."

"Come on, Girl! What really happened," you ask.  

Life.  Life happened and transformed me in the twinkling of an eye! In short, either I grew up or life grew me up.  I learned about the Holy Spirit and embraced His counsel and teachings.  He never stops teaching, especially if you ask.  The deacons in my childhood Church underscored Truth by affirming, "I'm a living witness!" They were absolutely right.  Spirit teaches me, "In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your path."