Carson completed the final thank you note of his graduation season, last night, and I dropped it in the mailbox, today. You may not think that's noteworthy, but, trust me, it is. With a daughter, you just say, "here are the cards and here's the list." With a son, well, it might best be described with a picture.....
Thank you notes are just one of those things that southern mamas are insistent upon with their children. I'm sure it's that way, everywhere, but I can only speak for my little corner of the world. It's a valued tradition passed down for generations and, as Scarlett would say, as God is my witness, we're not about to let this age of email and texts take this one last piece of personal, handwritten communication away from us.

Blair and John Samuel got a wedding gift, a couple of weeks ago, and I even texted her, today, to make sure she remembered to respond...even though she is a grown woman, who has a career and manages a household. I suppose if we were honest about it, a big reason for our careful oversight would be that we consider the absence of a thank you note to reflect poorly on us, the mamas. I mean, we may try to bury that real truth under all the other reasons like we want to teach them to be grateful, to be thoughtful, and to be able express their feeling to others. Yeah, yeah, all that, but we really just don't want it ever to be said of one of our kids, in a church fellowship hall or around a bridge table, somewhere, that they never acknowledged a gift. That is the ultimate black eye on a southern mother. She is to see to it that this important undertaking is carried out to its completion. It's written somewhere in the southern mama's by-laws. Article 6, I believe, but don't quote me on that.   

To avoid anyone being overlooked, we've kept meticulous records in our family and I've used a two-step verification process throughout our recent milestone moments for which gifts or kind deeds have been received. Each name gets a black line through it when the note is written and is then highlighted in yellow when the card has been addressed, stamped, and mailed. This two check system will help minimize your chances of being discussed at the next dinner on the ground or, heaven forbid, garden club meeting. Southern women do keep careful mental records of these things.    

That's why when Blair graduated from high school and an unsigned card came in the mail containing cash and no return address, well, I was horrified. Just horrified. Of course, you can't go around asking people if they happened to send your kid a graduation card because, well, if they didn't, that would be terribly awkward. Knowing the odds were slim, we posted a picture of the card on Facebook as I was desperate to find out who the sender was. That way we weren't asking anyone directly, but the attempt was fruitless, anyway.

For all these years, I've saved that envelope. I don't know why, really. I guess as a reminder that Blair still had one more note to write if we could just figure out where to send it. The handwriting on the envelope was engraved into my mind like a southern monogram. I'd even conducted my own handwriting analysis on it and considered DNA testing on the saliva with which it was sealed.

In the dark of night, I'd imagine some little, old lady going to the dollar store and selecting the perfect card and filling it with cash, which she probably really needed for her blood thinners and insulin, and then driving herself to the post office and going in with her cane and oxygen tank to purchase the stamp and drop it in the box...…only for it to be completely ignored by one of those ungrateful Miller kids. As the years passed, I'd even imagine that maybe she'd died and gone to see Jesus before Blair could thank her. I could feel the heat rising up my neck and my blood vessels constricting just thinking about it. This is the stuff that keeps mamas up at night. I finally had to let it go, because there just wasn't anything else I could do about the troubling situation.

Well, I was thumbing through our mail, the other day, and there it was! The handwriting that had been burned into my cerebrum since 2012. Carson had received a graduation card and the address was inscribed in the very same handwriting as the mystery card. There was no return address and, even though he wasn't home, I had to know. I ripped that thing open, because the suspense had been killing me for 6 years. I hoped to goodness they'd remembered to sign this one. Yep, there it was.....the name of an extended family member.

Well, the first thing I did was text Blair that the mystery was solved. I felt like Robert Stack in his trench coat out in the dark fog. Thankfully, it was family, which made the grievance somewhat less horrifying. I mean, family has to love you no matter what. So, as an almost 24 year old, Blair has one more high school graduation thank you note to write and I believe, then, I can sleep well at night.

I think Jesus thought thankfulness was pretty important, too. When He healed the 10 lepers and only one came back to thank him, He wondered where the other nine were. They'd all received the same healing. He was disappointed that they'd not thought to acknowledge the gift He'd given them, but He took notice of the one man's heart, which led Him back to the Giver. Jesus didn't need their thanks, but He thought it was important enough that He mentioned the absence of it.

Thankfulness is a condition of the heart. No matter if it's a card full of money, a place setting of china, or the gift of life we receive, everyday, whether we choose to acknowledge it or ignore it tells a lot about our heart and where its focus is. We're either looking in at the receiving or looking out at the giving. And, sometimes, the things that don't come wrapped up with a bow are the ones, which deserve the most thanks. From others, we receive loyalty, thoughtfulness, friendship, time, encouragement. From God, we receive provision, sustenance, joy, forgiveness, salvation.

I want to live in acknowledgement and gratefulness for the givers in my life and always keep my eyes open to the quiet, beautiful acts of giving that might slip past me.  



Have a great day, everybody!