I remember a time, I must’ve been about six, when my family was at a company picnic for my Dad’s work. I was playing an organized game with some of the other kids. It was something about being the first to kick a ball in the center of a circle. Anyway, the prize was a silver dollar. I was already an avid coin collector, and I really wanted that silver dollar. I think the way it worked was, a pair of kids in the circle was chosen each time and they would stand in the center with a ball in between them. An adult blew a whistle and then the first one to kick the ball won that round, and the other kid was eliminated. I guess I was really “on” that day, because it was the last round, and it was down to me and a boy several years older. The whistle blew, and I thought I was the first to touch the ball with my foot, but the judge declared the boy the winner of that coveted silver dollar. I watched in dismay as the judge handed over the beautiful coin to him.

Being only six, I couldn’t contain myself. I really believed I had won, and I burst into tears and became inconsolable. In a minute or two, the boy came over to me. He smiled, and to my utter surprise and delight, slid the silver dollar into my hand. I wiped my tears away and thanked him. My misery turned to joy. I don’t know if the boy’s parents had told him to give the prize to me or if he did it on his own. But, because of the friendliness I saw in his face, I’ve always thought that it was his own doing.

What gives some people such generous hearts? We know that people sometimes give out of guilt, out of a sense of personal inadequacy, out of obligation, even out of a sense of moral superiority. But I’m talking about giving that comes from a healthy place, a healthy spirit. I think it has to do with that chalice of our being that Dag Hammarskjold and Dick Gilbert speak of. (Full Text Here) That chalice of our being that we hold out to receive, to carry and to give back.

What I mean is that I think our feelings of generosity are often linked with a sense that our cup is full. It’s a matter of perspective. There are people who spend their lives accumulating more and more material things, seeking one pleasurable experience after another, and yet who always feel a sense of lack, of something missing. And there are many who spend equal energy filling their time with unimportant, unsatisfying things, in order to escape one form or another of emotional pain or discomfort. They also are plagued with the sense that their cup is empty.

At all times and in all places the world is full of beauty and ugliness, of pleasure and pain, of abundance and lack. Sometimes it seems easier to focus on the unbeautiful, our pain, and our lack; what’s wrong instead of what’s right. But we always have the opportunity to pay attention to “the graces of life that abound,” as Dick Gilbert puts it.

As we celebrate this Thanksgiving, may we pause to truly feel the abundance in our lives. May we know that, although we don’t always get what we wanted, our cup is still always full enough to give something to someone else who is in need. May it be so.

NOTE: For those of you who were not able to be part of the service on November 20th, where I discussed the story of Thanksgiving, including Indigenous perspectives, please contact me if you’d like to receive a copy of the sermon. You’ll find my contact information listed in the UUCD directory.