Gratitude - An Open Letter To God

I own too much stuff. My closet is stuffed, my drawers are over full, my "toys" remain uncounted. And all of this is true after selling a house which required filling a huge dumpster to over flowing and moving four times in two years. I've donated to the trash man, the Good Will store, and numerous anonymous "dump your used clothes here" boxes on street corners.

And I still have too much stuff.

Those things have very little to do with my gratitude. They don''t even come into play when I think about what matters to me the most.

But I am the leper that often forgets to come back to You, The Healer, and say "Thank You." I am the dead guy that You brought back to life and I spend so much time dancing in joy that I forget to utter the all important words that You must long to hear...

I think that the simple words "thank you" mean a lot. They need to be said. Yet they roll off of my tongue almost without thought. They are mere courtesy designed to dismiss my debt.

Let me cut in front on you in traffic when I turn my blinker on and I wave "thank you."

Ring me up at the "Quick Mart" and toss a penny in from the "give a penny/take a penny" tray so that I don't get a pocket full of jingling change and I say "thank you."

Hold the door for me because I have my hands full of food or drinks from some fast food establishment and I say "thank you."

So how can it be that leaving the wonders of Heaven and dying in my place to save my eternal soul from ever lasting separation from You and never ending punishment is worthy of the same "thank you?" How is that not more important than letting me cut in, tossing me a nearly meaningless piece of change, or holding the door for me?

Whips. Thorns. Spit. Nails. Hammers. Wooden beams. Blood shed. And all I can come up with is "thank you?"

I owe you everything and I give you so little. The only thing deeper than my shame is my gratitude.