by Kayla Shown-Dean

When I heard this month’s theme was bounty, I immediately thought of the quicker, thicker picker-upper: Bounty.

I find myself at YouTube, watching a few of the old 1992 and 1993 commercials of little ninjas and cowboys knocking over juice. It makes me think of my own little ninja turtle who is at his Mimi’s tonight. Then, I start counting my blessings.

I have a mother who lives near by and who is good enough health to care for my child. My son goes to a great daycare. He has access to a good doctor, healthy food, and clean water, which is so much more than many have. We live in a nice enough home. I mean, sure it’s an older home with older home problems. The bathrooms are outdated, and the washer overflows onto the patio after every rinse cycle. But it serves its purpose; it keeps us safe, warm (or cool, in this Arkansas summer heat), and dry.

My mind continued to wander as it’s prone to do.

I remember Christmastime, the loads of presents that my mother insists on filling our vehicle with. A lot of her gifts are used, things she picked up at yard sales or Goodwill, but it’s new to us, and we are happy to receive it.

I think of a specific memory: a night during Christmas week 2015.

I had just got off work. My plan was to take my family out for dinner at Waffle House, and then go home and make Christmas cookies for Santa. But as soon as I made it to my car, I got a phone call. A friend needed me. I postponed my dinner plans, of course, and went to help her. But I wasn’t happy about it. I was tired, hungry, and had a long evening of baking to look forward to, when all I wanted to do was sleep. I made it to the restaurant. We ate. The waitress chatted with us. She asked us if we were enjoying our holiday. “It’ll be better when tonight’s over,” I said under my breath. Since we are regulars, she asked what was wrong. I told her about my stress and how much I dreaded the process of making Christmas cookies that evening. All the while my little boy bounced in the seat across from me, excited to be eating at his favorite restaurant and celebrating Christmas.

The waitress brought our food, and we ate. But my husband just shook his head. “I don’t believe you,” he said, “Here you sit complaining about making Christmas cookies with your son, who is excited to help you by the way, to a woman who would probably love to be baking cookies with her kids tonight, but she can’t. She’s working, serving you.”

 

His words were harsh, but he was right.

Too often we focus on what we don’t have. We complain we don’t have enough time to ourselves, to do housework, to write, to rest, whatever. We stress and worry and complain over such petty things that we don’t see the bounty before us. We don’t see how much we truly have. And if we would take the time, just for a minute, to take a look at our bounty we would discover that the commercials were right: it is the quicker, thicker picker-upper. By taking note of the bounty at our feet (and sharing it with others), we can pick ourselves right up out of our negativity and see how blessed we truly are.