gratitude

My teenage years, I used to wake up on Saturday mornings to Ace of Base, My mother would be on the treadmill or cleaning the kitchen and I would walk out groggy eyed to see her dancing around to all sorts of Ace of Base tunes.  I would be frustrated at the bleary moment, that my one opportunity to enjoy sleeping in was dashed by “I saw the sign”.  This is how my Saturday mornings generally went, I woke up frustrated and annoyed then I usually went on doing what ever I generally pleased all day long, talked on the phone to my friends, visited neighbor kids, watched TV, read “Babysitter’s Club”.  Sometimes I would have to do the chores that I had put off all week, but over all, Saturday was a relaxed day in my house.  I thought I had it bad; bored, tired, and spending some of  “my personal time” doing chores was not my idea of a fun Saturday. 

When I woke up this morning at 7:30 there were teenagers slashing the grass in the field behind the institute.  Slashing is Ugandan lawn mowing, instead of a machine that clips the lawn; they use a short bar that is shaped like a hockey stick, swinging it back and forth to cut the grass.   They are cutting the high grass from the garden where they are just now plowing to prepare for seed.  Now before you think this is about my reflection on the work that I had to do on Saturdays compared to the work they have to do here.  This is less about work and more about attitude.

While my teenage self was sitting in my bed silently infuriated that I was woken up so early by my mother, these teens are singing, loudly, praise songs, as they spend a few early morning hours slashing grass by hand.  They are shouting, “your love never fails, it never gives up, it never runs out on me”.  I can hear them, in unison, breaking into harmony, as they trod slowly across their row of tall grass swinging the bar across the ground at ankle level.  When they finish, they go about their business, washing clothes, cooking, chopping wood, then; doing school work, doing odd jobs (I had someone from Samuel family repair my broken flip flop a week or so ago). 

The thing is, this is not an isolated case, there are teens doing this all week in other gardens all over the compound, older boys, praising and laughing at the mill, a choir meets behind my hut in the Ebenezer family preparing for Sunday morning service.  The drums begin all over the grounds at 6:30pm and stagger throughout until 8pm.  There is constant joy and gratefulness, women are laughing and joking, praying and teaching, in the kitchens.  There is not a day that goes by that I do not hear someone say out loud “I love my life”.  They really do, I know that some of them have two pairs of shoes, have a few outfits, and spend a lot of their time working, in that garden or helping with the little ones.  There are children fetching water all day long, some are fetching wheelbarrows full of water jugs and wheeling them back to the Family.  They are so happy and love where they are.

             The joy is humbling, I know so many people who live a life that the people here can only dream of, being paid high wages, working cushy desk jobs, where they are protected by all sorts of laws and given all sorts of rights. They leave work in a car of their very own, and have the freedom to go where ever they want, when they arrive home, there are the common luxuries that they take for granted, running water, a stockpile of food, reliable electricity, fast internet, a cozy couch, a fancy cellular phone.  There are stores within moments of their houses where they can go and use that cash they earned to buy things they want because generally all of their “needs” have been met.  So, they can choose what they want to cook for dinner, rather than eating what they can afford.  All of this and some of their Facebook status updates make it look like their life is consumed with what they do not have or with the sadness of their present situations.  I am very guilty of this.  When I was living in the states, things like waiting in line, a rude service representative, or bad cell phone service would frustrate me enough to write a snide post about it. 

            What I wouldn’t give right now to be stuck in line behind ten people in an air-conditioned target, to be handed a delicious latte by a very curt barista or to get any cell phone service at all, because I have talked to my mother a grand total of once, since I’ve been in Africa.  If I have to read the acronym FML one more time on Facebook, I may scream.  But, It WILL happen, some person’s flight to some exotic vacation spot will get delayed and they will whine and complain that they get to spend 2 less hours on their 7 day trip to paradise.  But while they do that, there will be a teenager, some where in their one pair of sandals, wearing a handed down shirt, who took a freezing cold bucket shower that morning, slashing grass, thanking God for their life. 

The lesson that this is constantly teaching me is one of gratitude, and gratitude to whom, the father, who has placed me in the society I was born in.  I have been afforded many luxuries that I have long taken for granted.  I know it will be difficult to remember when I am typing updates on my smart phone from a beach in Hawaii.  But I am going to do my best to choose every day to thank God for all that I have rather than curse him for what I do not.