A Time for Giving Thanks

I’m not exactly sure where I’m going with this post, so bear with me. I suppose you could consider it my Thanksgiving post. I encountered a woman last week who was begging for money. This is my first time since moving to Kerala (back in October 2012) that I have had someone approach me for money. As I was closing our front gate after letting Zac out with the car, I saw this woman out of the corner of my eye, staring at me. Being stared at is nothing new for me, so I kept about my business of shutting the gate. Then, I heard her saying something to me, so I finally looked at her, noticing she had her hand extended. I did what I’ve been told to do – I shook my head, avoided eye contact, and hurried to get in the car. The reason I’m telling this story is because while this woman was asking for money, I had an awful internal reaction to her. I got angry. I assumed she was asking me for money simply because I was white. Zac thought the same thing until we looked behind us and saw her approaching another woman to ask for money. I felt awful, and I don’t think I have even told Zac how awful I felt about it.

So, I’ve been grappling with this episode ever since – I have had to “re-check my privilege,” if you will. That woman, most likely, did need money, any money. And I wish I would have given her something. But at the time I had no purse on me, no pockets, and I was hot, tired, achy, swollen and sweaty. I got angry with her for an unjustifiable reason. So, I’ve been praying that God keeps my pride reigned in and my patience more enduring. Since then, I have been hyper-aware of things I am thankful for.

Zac and I are blessed enough to be living well in India. In fact, we are living in excess. We have a beautiful apartment, a maid/cook, a washing machine, a water purifier, a brand new car, no concerns on how we will afford our monthly expenses, two laptops, wireless internet, a new camera (for lots of sleeping baby photos), and a generator, which is thanks to our electrician landlord. Our maid is awesome. I was all huffy when Zac said he was going to hire a lady to help around the house because, well, pride? But now that I am getting further along in my pregnancy in a very hot and humid climate, I am incredibly grateful for the work she does. As for our washing machine, I could hug it every single time I do a load of laundry – I washed clothes by hand for seven months in Calicut. I was pretty bad at it. I ruined quite a few pieces of clothing. Having a water purifier means that neither Zac nor I have to boil our water before drinking it, which was something else we had to do in Calicut. And the generator means that I can still sprawl under the ceiling fan when the power inevitably goes off almost every single day. I am so thankful for that because the heat and humidity here are becoming increasingly uncomfortable for me the larger I get.

That was a list of material things, I know, but I would think it is pretty obvious that I am thankful for my husband. And he is for me. He is always saying to me, “Our story is the best.” And it is pretty unbelievable. He comes from a crowded city in India, and I come from a tiny borough in Pennsylvania, and God willing, we crossed paths, so to speak, in Binghamton, New York. And now we’ve been married almost two years. He is graciously kind and considerate, a good provider, and makes me strive to be a better human all the time. He’ll be an amazing father. I am pretty sure I have said that before on here, but it’s always worth saying again.

And now I come to Little Bean, who has the hiccups as I am typing this. I consider her a miracle, not just because she’s our baby, but because we weren’t sure if or when a pregnancy would ever happen. And, lo and behold, I had already been pregnant for two weeks or so when the doctor gave me some medicine to try to get pregnant eventually. Now, every kick and punch, every hiccup is so precious to me; it’s awe-inspiring.  I am so thankful to be experiencing this. And I am thankful for the emotions that run through me about this pretty much all the time, every single day. I am both excited and terrified to be a parent. What if I don’t change her diaper often enough? How will I know when she’s hungry? What if she hates me? I ask Zac often if he is nervous about being a dad. The answer – nope. So, maybe these feelings are more of a mom thing. 🙂

I suppose that’s enough of baring my feelings to you all. I am thankful that there are enough people out there who seem to enjoy this blog. When I started it, I thought it would just be family and friends, but I can see from my number stats that it’s not. Thanks for reading this, everyone. And, if you’re in the US, have a great Thanksgiving!