THE GRATEFUL CHILD


Are the words “grateful child” really just an oxymoron, much like “personal responsibility?”  Are some children just naturally grateful?  I’m not saying that it isn’t possible, I’m just saying I’ve never known any who were.  I think I accidentally raised a bunch of kids to be ungrateful.  When they were babies my wife and I fed or changed them when they cried....every single time.  When option one or option two didn’t stop the crying we tried to soothe them in any way we could to stop it.  When they were older we instructed them to “pick up YOUR clothes,” “eat YOUR dinner,” or my personal favorite “go to YOUR room.”  Through an endless series of communication I implied that they owned stuff, when in reality they actually possessed nothing.

Can gratitude be taught?  I mean can it be taught by me to someone else?  Like most people with children I taught my kids to say “please” and “thank you” at the appropriate times....but were they really grateful?  I think it’s more likely that they were just avoiding negative feedback from their parents by saying such things?  I think early in my child raising experience I was willing to accept behavior that imitated gratitude because it seemed that without life experience how can little people so young understand what it really was? 

With my middle daughter over a period of weeks and months I tried an experiment to perhaps induce gratitude.  I began to explain to her that her clothes and other possessions didn’t really belong to her at all.  All her stuff really belonged to her mom and I.  Because we loved her we were willing to share our stuff with her.  In the end what I found out, at least with this little girl, was that she was more willing to return her stuff than to accept the fact that her stuff was really not hers at all.  It made her angry to contemplate that her pretty clothes weren’t really hers....that her room was just a temporary situation.  I let it drop.  In hindsight I should have made it a point to explain that the stuff her mom and I were willing to share with her wasn’t our stuff either.  Someone else was sharing their stuff with us because they loved us.  Maybe if I placed myself beside her....both of us depending on the kindness of another....instead of above her as the owner of all things then maybe she would have been more receptive to the idea of gratitude.

After years of time and six children I realized that my “need” to be appreciated by my kids was a problem....my problem.  They would be grateful...appreciative....apply whatever tag....or not.  If I knew in advance whether or not my children would be grateful to their mom and I as parents, would it change anything we did when we were raising them?  I don’t think we would have withheld anything from them that they needed or wanted even if we knew they would never appreciate what it took to bring them up. I began to understand that I never really needed anything from them.....I love them....that’s all....that really is enough for me.  Now at the end of days that I’m raising my children into grown ups I find that there is something I want from them....each one...not most of them...all of them.  If I lose even one, I’m afraid it will feel like I have lost all.  I don’t need something from them....I want something from them.  I want their mom and I to ever remain relevant to them.

None of this is to suggest that my wife and I have successfully raised a brood of ungrateful wretches.  My experience is suggesting that a grateful child doesn’t appear until the child becomes an adult.  There have been moments in time when my two oldest have leaned into me and from their hearts said “thanks dad.”  My response wasn’t one of euphoria when I thought, “Finally, they get it!  They’re finally grateful to me!”  To be as transparent as I can be, the experience....both times....was humbling.  For the sake of their hearts I’m glad they found their way to be grateful but in the depths of mine I understood that their gratitude didn’t really belong to me.


Tags: CalebBlog

Comments

Unknown said…
Great story. Love ya

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