Thanksgiving by proxy.

Thanksgiving is right around the corner!

I'm a very blessed woman with much to be grateful for. It would be easy for me to sit here and recount my blessings for you. Instead, though, I want to talk about something a bit more complicated: how to be grateful for the blessings of others.

Perhaps it’s just me . . . But do you ever notice how right behind almost every “congratulations!” that slips past your lips, regardless of how heartfelt and sincere it might be, there’s a subtle (or not-so-subtle) “but why not me?” that jumps out of your heart and gets stuck in your throat?

For example: 

It's Monday morning, and your friend is enjoying a peppermint mocha. Out loud, you say, "Wow, that smells wonderful." Internally, you think, "I just realized how tired I am. Really wish that I had one of those . . ."

Or how about something a little deeper?: 

Your friend gets a much-deserved promotion at work. You say (and mean), “That’s fantastic! Good for you. I’m so glad you’re being rewarded for all of the extra hours you’ve been putting in, and I know you’ll excel at managing your new responsibilities.” You don’t say, “Wow, that reminds me that I didn’t get promoted, because my work isn’t valued as highly as his is.”

There’s a lot of envy going on there. Where is it coming from?

If we habitually compare ourselves to others, then we automatically use other people’s good news as a measuring stick by which to take stock of our own. Essentially, it’s pride. It means that I’m inserting myself into someone else’s story. Rather than just acknowledging that you have [x] and then moving on, my selfish heart says, “You have [x]. Do I have [x]? If not, why?”

We have to remember that when something good happens for someone else, that doesn’t mean that there’s less good to go around, as if God is operating with some kind of limited supply. Instead, it’s proof that God’s redemptive plan is alive and well, and that He is actively pursuing it.

A grateful heart humbly takes itself out of the equation and (as the subtitle says) participates in the blessings wherever they are found.

At my brother and sister-in-law’s wedding, the priest said, “Marriage is proof that God’s love for each of us is intensely personal. He takes two people with separate backgrounds, separate histories, separate personalities, and then joins their hearts together as one.” That’s a beautiful thought. But it took my Protestant memory a few beats to realize that, as a Catholic priest, he wasn’t speaking out of his own tangible experience. A large part of his life is spent counseling young couples on their way to the altar and officiating their wedding ceremonies, baptizing their children, and supporting their spiritual formation. If he wasn’t able to celebrate with them and count their blessings as his own, it would be impossible to sincerely and joyfully keep his vows.

On that same theme, I had the distinct privilege of hosting a bridal shower this weekend for one of my very dearest friends. The man she’s about to marry also happens to be one of my favorite people, and I’m going to shamelessly (if not entirely accurately) take credit for introducing them. As an amateur matchmaker with a maternal streak, watching them make each other happy is like getting two for the price of one. I’m genuinely, truly thrilled for them.

It’s hard, though, because it means that – tomorrow morning –  she’s moving. Sitting next to her at church for the last time, I realized midway through the sermon that I had picked the wrong night to wear smoky eye make-up. By the final hymn, my cheeks were streaked with mascara. I will no longer get to see her twice a week at small group and on Sundays. I won’t get to hang out with her on weekends and catch up over tea. My introverted self won’t be able to drag her along to parties and rely on her to make small talk when I start to feel tired. It’s hard because, at least for a little while, her absence means that I’m going to feel lonely.

So I have a choice: I can either choose to be upset because, in order to bless someone else, God has taken my friend from me. Or, I can believe that He has allowed me to play a supporting role in someone else’s love story.

During this holiday season (and always), I'd rather choose to be grateful.