I must confess that I often fail to be grateful for the many gifts that God has given me in my life. Chances are if you are reading this, you are one of those gifts in my life. I tend to think that I am not alone when I say that I tend to focus on the things that have been taken away from me or the things that I lack rather than appreciate all that I have been given. I have become very good at determining what is missing from a given situation and how I would change things to make them better. I often bemoan the loss of a prized possession such as my car, my house, my proximity to friends and family, my career, or perhaps simply the opportunity to have more quiet time. No matter how big or how small the item, I have at times measured my life not by what has been given, but by what has been taken away.
Recently, it seems like there have been a lot of big changes in my life including changes in my relationships with friends, family, pastors, other seminarians, etc. Many of these changes I did / do not appreciate. Admittedly, I am still working with a few of them in order to see them as gifts. In the past few weeks I have caught myself assembling a list of complaints of things that I would like to change in my life one way or the other. I have realized that instead of the items of the list growing smaller in number, the list tends to increase exponentially as the days pass by. This leads to an overall sense of dissatisfaction or a feeling of ‘missing the mark.’ I chose my words here carefully because the Greek word used most often for ‘sin’ in the Bible is harmartia (αρμαρτια) which loosely translated means ‘to miss the mark.’ The sin then is my lack of gratefulness to God for the gifts he has freely given me and my dwelling instead on what has been seemingly been unjustly taken away.
These past few weeks in Guatemala have helped me appreciate many things in my life that I have taken for granted. Don’t worry this will not be an outpouring of Catholic guilt where I renounce all forms of capitalism and a competitive free market because of the material poverty I have seen here; nor will it be a discourse on Catholic social teaching and a more just distribution of wealth in the world (although that one may be coming later). A few examples to help give you the idea of what I am talking about are: waking up in the morning without running water and being unable to take a shower, sleeping in a place with loud trucks outside my window at 4am and a rooster who likes to crow about his long lost love for hours on end beginning promptly at 3:30am, not being able to drink the water from the tap, having to walk in the rain everyday (I know I shouldn’t even bring this one up right now with a Texas audience but there is such a thing as too much rain!), not being able to run out and grab a Whataburger and a Shiner Bock beer, etc. These are just a few of the little things that I miss. However, I still haven’t gotten to my point have I?
This past weekend nine other seminarians and I went on what should have been a spiritual retreat at a Benedictine Monastery and minor seminary in Quetzaltenango (the Mayan name for the city is Xela). Many of us were looking forward to periods of silent prayer free of the noise that we seemed to be unable to escape from in Antigua. I can honestly say that arriving at the seminary was a breathtaking experience. This wasn’t as much due to the beautiful landscape as it was to the fact that we were over 7,500 ft above sea level and I was having trouble adjusting. When we arrived at the seminary after a 4.5 hour bus ride on a less than comfortable school bus with complimentary motion sickness, we were less than pleased to find out that nine of us would be sharing a single room with one bathroom. We were even more surprised as we joined the other seminarians for dinner only to discover how well we have actually been eating in Antigua. I admit that initially I was less than grateful for the food that was put on the plate before me. There were several other experiences including cold showers, a jam packed schedule of activities, and rush hour traffic in the city that left at least some of us wondering why we came in the first place. My list of complaints was growing.
When I woke up Sunday morning and took another cold shower and choked down a horrible cup of coffee, I sat down to pray my rosary. As I continued to pray I realized that I could not hear anything other than the birds chirping outside. It was quiet. Many of the other guys were still asleep and I was able to spend some quiet time in prayer. Whether it was the Holy Spirit or my own guilt ridden conscience (definitely the first but perhaps both), I realized how ungrateful I have been for the many gifts in my life. After three weeks of trying to explain the English expression “you can’t see the forest for the trees” to my Spanish teacher, I realized that despite the number of times I had uttered this phrase I did not realize that I should be saying it to myself. I have been so focused on the things in my life that have been taken away or that I still lack (both material and non-material things) that I have been blind to the many gifts that God has given me. I am so hyper-aware of the perceived faults in others, or the manner in which I am sometimes annoyed by them, that I fail to see them as the gift that they are. At times I focus more on the ways in which my life in the seminary could be better than I do appreciating what my time in the seminary has done for my life. I find myself overlooking the many generous people (I am talking about you here! Please listen!) who make it possible for me to discern the Lord’s call. During this short time of praying the rosary and meditation my mind was flooded with all that I have to be grateful for.
For the rest of the day I tried to play a little game. Every time I saw something that I perceived to be negative or anytime I was tempted to complain, I tried to find one or two things for which I was thankful. Admittedly, I was pretty terrible at this game in the beginning. As time went by throughout the day, I found myself being increasingly grateful even for the small crosses that were placed in my path. I intentionally tried to thank God for each moment of the day. In the particularly tough moments, I asked for the grace to see the gift in the situation. I could feel the change slowly taking place. Later that night, as the neighbor’s dog and the rooster entered into a heated discussion for two hours (presumably about whether dogs or roosters are louder) from 4-6am, I found myself giving thanks that at least I had a roof over my head and a warm bed. When I woke up to running water that wasn’t going to give me frostbite, I gave thanks. When I received emails from two very dear friends that put a smile on my face, I gave thanks. When I was able to make a housemate feel appreciated on his birthday even though he is a far distance from home, I gave thanks. When a friend invited me to go across town to the Cathedral to spend time in adoration before going to Mass, I gave thanks. As I sit here writing this reflection, knowing that you are reading it, I am giving thanks for the part you have played in my life and my journey to the priesthood (Ojala!). As a result, I find that I am beginning to feel a great sense of joy in my heart. Perhaps today was just a good day. Perhaps there was no big conversion and I won’t continue to be grateful for the rest of my life. Perhaps I will return to my old ways and complain more than I give thanks. Perhaps these thoughts were a result of a high-altitude induced state of oxygen deprivation. Whatever the case, I can tell you that I am at least increasing my efforts to being a man of the ‘Eucharist’ in the true sense of the word (thanksgiving). I am trying to be more like the one leper who returned to give thanks after he was cured rather than one of the nine who simply walked away. As a result, the scales are slowly falling from my eyes and I like what I see. With the clearer vision my aim is improving and is allowing me to hit the mark more than I miss it.
Oh yeah, by the way, the forest is actually pretty beautiful once you take your eyes off the one tree and look around a little. I am sorry that I don’t have a picture of it to show you, but then again, it is probably better that we all take a look for ourselves.
Please pray for me as I am praying for all of you. “Entremos a la presencia del Señor dándole gracias.”
Pax tecum,
Tom
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