When our first child was born, my husband wanted me to make a video for an aunt he was especially close to. This involved several hours of work since I had to edit out everything the aunt wouldn’t be interested in, like footage of my family. We shot a special introduction to the video in which we said we hoped she would enjoy seeing our new baby. We put her address and our return address label onto a bubble mailer and dropped it off at the post office.
So imagine my surprise when about a week later my mother-in-law informed me that the aunt had phoned to thank her for the wonderful video.
I don’t know what ticked me off more: the aunt thanking the wrong person or my mother-in-law not correcting her.
Goodness, shouldn’t the right person be thanked?
Then I have to remember how many times I haven’t thanked the right person. For example, for our wedding anniversary my husband got me a dozen red roses. You can bet I thanked him.
But I forgot he wasn’t the only one who gave me those roses.
Wasn’t it God who created all the flowers? Wasn’t it God Who endowed them with such beauty and splendor? Wasn’t it God Who bestowed them with such a delightful scent?
And when He created roses, didn’t He know well ahead of time that that particular dozen would be given to me?
When you think about it, absolutely everything I have has come from God.
So . . . just where was my gratitude?
Asleep, that’s where.
How fortunate we all are that God bears ingratitude better than anyone else.