Where Gratitude took me…
Grindavik.
Often, when we read something in the news cycle that grabs our attention, or maybe even tugs at our heart strings, we don’t know the people, animals, or landscapes being impacted.
We can empathize, but we can’t imagine.
When the news came in that a volcano was preparing to erupt in Grindavik, the Icelandic fishing village of 3,400 inhabitants, my mother came into our house and announced:
“Anna & Solveig could lose their home.”
Then it clicked.
Our dear friends live in Grindavik.
As we follow their messages on FB and WhatsApp, the reality of losing everything they’ve worked for and hold dear is undeniable.
It’s not a matter of IF the volcano erupts, but WHEN.
Our friends had recently completed renovations & reinforcements in their home to make it secure during earthquakes, as there had been an increase since 2021.
They said they’d sit in their living room, shaking, holding onto things as the tremor passed… sometimes for minutes only to begin again minutes later.
Our friends have been evacuated from their home along with all of the residents of the town. They aren’t sleeping well, unsure of the future, having trouble concentrating, yet are still the gracious, open Anna & Solveig we know & love, aiding in rescues.
Which brings me to the Gratitude of Home.
Dinner was rarely planned in our home growing up.
My dad cooked for the first five years of my life, as far as I remember. His dishes were the most impressive, like African lamb curry with electric green sauce.
When my parents separated, my mom became a single-working-mother.
It’s not that the cupboards were bare or meals forgotten. It’s that we never ate dinner at the same time or knew what we’d be eating.
My mom is a good cook, but she’s not a planner. She likes to see what’s in the fridge and put a menu together in her mind, using what’s left before going shopping.
When I ask if she remembers what she used to make us for dinner, she says she has no memory of it.
I remember artichokes. Stir fry. A hamburger phase. Lasagna.
Everything was homemade except for Kraft Mac & Cheese. My favorite.
When my partner & I started dating in Los Angeles, I was 35. He was 27.
We were both vegetarian, which is very easy to be in L.A. There is no shortage of places to eat delicious vegetarian, from Indian to Thai to Mexican to Garden-to-Table.
When we got a little more serious, we started cooking dinner at home.
I would make pasta, for example, and serve it in a bowl. He liked the sauce, but something always seemed a little disappointing. I couldn’t figure it out.
Then he would cook, and I noticed a difference.
I served a one-bowl dish. He served dishes with many bowls.
I believe they call these sides & garnish.
He put a lot of thought into the flavor & presentation of each one.
Then it hit me.
My partner grew up in a family of five. His mother, who also worked, loved making every dinner special. She put flowers on the table, made savory meals with sides, had all three of her sons sit and eat at the table even as distracted teenagers.
I started to think of dinner as more than a bowl of Ramen. I even thought about what I’d cook and shop for it. I guess it’s ironic that I worked in kitchens for so many years and never brought the art of presentation home.
We’ve been together over fifteen years now. My partner has reached Ninja level as cook. My mom gifted him a vanity apron:
Eric. Numero uno en la cocina.
I do my share with a list of beloved fail-safe recipes, but I really shine at brunch from my years in New York & Berlin where frühstück / brunch culture lasts hours. I will put 10 dishes on the table in the style we’ve enjoyed for breakfast in Morocco.
My offering of gratitude goes out to my partner who consistently provides home & hearth for our family with a menu of meals to die for.
And he makes it look so easy!
YOUR TURN: Where does GRATITUDE take you?
What & who makes you feel grateful?
Often it’s little things, but hey, if you want to go big…
Go big!
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I struggle with compliments—not giving but receiving. After playing a solo or duet on my flute in church, I often receive kind words from others. Rather than receiving gracefully, I tend to mumble in embarrassment or put myself down by pointing out my mistakes, thus creating an awkward situation. I’ve had to practice in order to receive well, which in a way is another way of giving. Paul the Apostle provided some practical guidelines in this regard: if you’re good at something, offer it, because you are gifted for a reason. There’s no reason to be proud about the gifts you were given, because all gifts come for God. We don’t acquire them; we either have them or we don’t. We are meant to use our gifts without seeking attention, to be thankful for and pleased with them. If people want to tell us how much they appreciate what we have, remember the gift is God-given. So now, after receiving a compliment, I do my best to express gratitude with a simple “Thank you,” share the credit with my colleagues, and say, “All for the glory of God.” That’s a grateful thanks-giving!
I was salutatorian, second place. “First loser”, as the athletes call it. Throughout my four years of high school, I received only one grade below 90%. A lone B in Driver’s Education. This academic blemish cracked my perfectionist façade, leaving an opening for Chadley Ballantyne to slip in and one-up me as class valedictorian.
Mister Crowley’s “B” was an important lesson in humility. I was scolded, as he steadfastly repeated I had earned it, because I cheated. I was lucky I didn’t fail, he said. I protested but knew he was right. The school legend saying everyone could cheat in Crowley’s Driver’s Ed (because he allowed it) came back to bite me. He wanted to make an example out of the class know-it-all. “If everybody walked off a cliff, Eric, would you do that, too?” His parting words of wisdom. Only fifteen at the time, I knew this was big. A moment of illumination. Lesson learned: Don’t ever be a lemming.
There is no way to know if that B+ changed everything. One thing is for sure, I wouldn’t be where I am today. For that, I’m grateful. Thanks, Mr. C.
Gratitude is the long game. The disappointments, annoyances, and disturbances are part of its process. Today, Thanksgiving, I’m waking up with the love of my life, surrounded by the sea. The Cabo de Gata natural park of Almería awaits us. Two lovers strolling hand-in-hand, taking it all in, as the vast horizon stretches on.