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!
Nov 23, 2023·edited Nov 23, 2023Liked by M Tamara Cutler
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.
Since years, there is that place I call my place of gratitude. It is in the middle of the forest, in the Mullerthal, known as Luxembourg's Little Switzerland. The Mullerthal Trail is particularly famous for its fairytale rock formations and waterfalls. But my place of gratitude is also marked by very significant historical incidents of the Second World War. The traces are still visible there, engraved in the rocks: the names of the people and the way in which they were killed, as well as the people who have gone missing. Above these names is written that you should take the time to go into yourself and simply reflect for a moment. In the middle of the rocks is a statue of the Virgin Mary with candles that are always lit.
For me, this place symbolizes gratitude, because as long as I am able to get to this place through my own physical and mental strength, I am fine and can be grateful for my condition and life.
Nov 25, 2023·edited Nov 25, 2023Liked by M Tamara Cutler
I am grateful for Spelling Bee, the word game in the New York Times, Spelling Bee and Wordle too. Every morning I get up first, very early like 4:30 or 5, feed our old dog, let him out, pour coffee for us both in our travel mugs to keep it hot, then I relax on the couch, Coby curls up on ‘his couch’, and I click open emails first, headlines, then the puzzles, and then take my first crack at Spelling Bee, finding the first few easy words quickly. About then David starts stirring, I hear his waking up noises, a loud sigh or yawn, a cough or two, getting dressed sounds, Coby alerts, picks his head up off the pillow watching expectantly, then David comes out, pats Coby on the head, gives me a kiss. These days I give him a close look, trying to be discrete, as I can usually tell how he is from looking at him, the color of his face, his eyes. Normally he is rosy cheeked, bright eyed, an alert sparkly look, but since his surgery if he isn’t feeling well he looks almost greenish, gaunt and heavy lidded. I can tell from just a glance . His phone has beeped by then, text messages from his family. They all play Wordle and text each other their scores, his sisters, his niece, and a cousin, from North Carolin and Florida. A tiny Hello, Thinking of you, and these days as David is in early recovery stages its especially nice. David brings his coffee to the couch, opens up his laptop and sometimes after a minute or two I hear his triumphant “PANGRAM!” In Spelling Bee when you get a word that uses all 7 letters its called a Pangram. I might say “wow I’ve been working on it for an hour and didn’t find it yet” or “Yeah but there’s a second one there”. We both pick away at Spelling Bee on and off throughout the day. Sometimes we say to each other what ranking we’re at “I’m only Nice what are you?” “I’m Amazing!” or later I might hear “GENIUS!”, the highest ranking we generally reach. We give each other hints especially later on in the day “Did you get the one that describes how you’ve been feeling?” “Oh you mean CRAPPY? Yeah”. “Did you get the one that’s my favorite dinner?” “Yeah I knew YOU would get PICATA”
Hanging up the phone, the first thing I did was breathe a sigh of relief. Thank goodness she was in a good mood, I told my partner. At that moment, I felt grateful that the call had gone smoothly. This was not to be taken for granted; it could easily have been the exact opposite.
Whenever I plan to see or speak with her, I prepare myself mentally, focusing to find inner calm. If I accidentally trigger a negative response, I quickly try to steer the conversation in a different direction. I’m afraid of her angry outbursts and criticism that still manages to get to me after all these years.
I know this fear is due to my own unresolved issues, a knee-jerk response by my inner child, afraid of being punished, who felt misunderstood and did not understand, long ago. So now I try to find compassion, put myself in her shoes, and show that I care while maintaining the boundaries I need to feel safe. I won’t ever come close to being the perfect daughter. But I can try and try again to have a pleasant conversation, sharing news of her grandchildren, reaching out to connect. After all, she helped make me who I am today, and it’s not all that bad.
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.
Since years, there is that place I call my place of gratitude. It is in the middle of the forest, in the Mullerthal, known as Luxembourg's Little Switzerland. The Mullerthal Trail is particularly famous for its fairytale rock formations and waterfalls. But my place of gratitude is also marked by very significant historical incidents of the Second World War. The traces are still visible there, engraved in the rocks: the names of the people and the way in which they were killed, as well as the people who have gone missing. Above these names is written that you should take the time to go into yourself and simply reflect for a moment. In the middle of the rocks is a statue of the Virgin Mary with candles that are always lit.
For me, this place symbolizes gratitude, because as long as I am able to get to this place through my own physical and mental strength, I am fine and can be grateful for my condition and life.
I am grateful for Spelling Bee, the word game in the New York Times, Spelling Bee and Wordle too. Every morning I get up first, very early like 4:30 or 5, feed our old dog, let him out, pour coffee for us both in our travel mugs to keep it hot, then I relax on the couch, Coby curls up on ‘his couch’, and I click open emails first, headlines, then the puzzles, and then take my first crack at Spelling Bee, finding the first few easy words quickly. About then David starts stirring, I hear his waking up noises, a loud sigh or yawn, a cough or two, getting dressed sounds, Coby alerts, picks his head up off the pillow watching expectantly, then David comes out, pats Coby on the head, gives me a kiss. These days I give him a close look, trying to be discrete, as I can usually tell how he is from looking at him, the color of his face, his eyes. Normally he is rosy cheeked, bright eyed, an alert sparkly look, but since his surgery if he isn’t feeling well he looks almost greenish, gaunt and heavy lidded. I can tell from just a glance . His phone has beeped by then, text messages from his family. They all play Wordle and text each other their scores, his sisters, his niece, and a cousin, from North Carolin and Florida. A tiny Hello, Thinking of you, and these days as David is in early recovery stages its especially nice. David brings his coffee to the couch, opens up his laptop and sometimes after a minute or two I hear his triumphant “PANGRAM!” In Spelling Bee when you get a word that uses all 7 letters its called a Pangram. I might say “wow I’ve been working on it for an hour and didn’t find it yet” or “Yeah but there’s a second one there”. We both pick away at Spelling Bee on and off throughout the day. Sometimes we say to each other what ranking we’re at “I’m only Nice what are you?” “I’m Amazing!” or later I might hear “GENIUS!”, the highest ranking we generally reach. We give each other hints especially later on in the day “Did you get the one that describes how you’ve been feeling?” “Oh you mean CRAPPY? Yeah”. “Did you get the one that’s my favorite dinner?” “Yeah I knew YOU would get PICATA”
Hanging up the phone, the first thing I did was breathe a sigh of relief. Thank goodness she was in a good mood, I told my partner. At that moment, I felt grateful that the call had gone smoothly. This was not to be taken for granted; it could easily have been the exact opposite.
Whenever I plan to see or speak with her, I prepare myself mentally, focusing to find inner calm. If I accidentally trigger a negative response, I quickly try to steer the conversation in a different direction. I’m afraid of her angry outbursts and criticism that still manages to get to me after all these years.
I know this fear is due to my own unresolved issues, a knee-jerk response by my inner child, afraid of being punished, who felt misunderstood and did not understand, long ago. So now I try to find compassion, put myself in her shoes, and show that I care while maintaining the boundaries I need to feel safe. I won’t ever come close to being the perfect daughter. But I can try and try again to have a pleasant conversation, sharing news of her grandchildren, reaching out to connect. After all, she helped make me who I am today, and it’s not all that bad.