Thank You, Thank You, Thank You

Author Anne Lamott claims the two best prayers she knows are “help me, help me, help me” and “thank you, thank you, thank you.” How simple and complete these are.

Over the course of the past month or so, I have started a gratitude practice. This simply means that every night before I fall asleep I take the time to write down three things about the day that I am thankful for. The idea is to literally take the time to say: “thank you, thank you, thank you” in a very specific and intentional way.

At times, what or who I appreciate has been quite predictable: time spent with my nephews and niece, my dog, my friends, my students. Simple pleasures like a white chocolate mocha from Caribou, hot tubs, and The Bachelor. Beauty such as a starry night sky, an orange and pink sunset, and Lake Calhoun.

At other times, I have been surprised about what I have found to be thankful for. Like the day that I forgot my purse at work and had to drive all the way back from home to get it. That day I was thankful that such an inconvenience was the worst thing I had to complain about. There was also the day I was thankful for having the courage to talk to my supervisor about a desire I have; whether or not my petition was granted was irrelevant, I was simply grateful that I took action to ask. Last night I was thankful that before sharing a meal with friends, we took the time to hold hands and bless our food as well as those who go without; such a simple thing, and yet, so refreshingly comforting to me.

Some days it’s easy to be thankful: like the day that a stranger bought me breakfast when I didn’t have cash and the seller didn’t take credit. Some days it’s more of a challenge: such as the day when an old schoolmate got in a serious skiing accident and had to have his lower leg amputated. That day I was simply thankful that I have my health…. and I realized that that is something I take for granted all too often.

I’m not sure that saying “thank you” to God, to the universe, to the people, places, and events that make my life meaningful changes anything about the world around me. However, I do think it changes me. It is something I can control… and it helps me to look for the good. It helps me, as Oriah Mountain Dreamer says, to, “see beauty even when it is not pretty everyday.”

Upon reflection, I wonder how often I am vulnerable enough to say, “help me, help me, help me”. For the most part, I like to think that I have pretty good control over my life. I am a self-proclaimed “over-functioner”. This means that when the world seems to be falling apart, I don’t let myself fall apart with it… I keep on, keeping on. I go to work, pay my bills, walk my dog. I function.

Functioning is important. And yet, so is having the courage to admit, “I can’t do this all on my own” or better yet, “I don’t have to do this all on my own”. Sometimes we need to admit that we are lost, or confused, or scared, or sad or angry. Sometimes we need to ask for help with heavy, significant things that we are struggling to accept or navigate.

At other times, maybe we would do well to ask for help with little things: such as for patience when sitting next to particularly loud traveling companions on an airplane. We can close our eyes, breathe deep and say, “help me, help me, help me”.

And, at still other times, perhaps, we would do best to ask for help in receiving that which we most want out of life. St. Ignatius says that at the beginning of each prayer you should ask God, “for what I want and desire”. Sometimes we don’t realize what we want until we take the time to truly put it into words. Sometimes trusting the heavens to help us in our quest to find that which we truly desire is the best, and maybe only, thing we can do.

I’m sure that there are countless ways to pray and access the Divine. I know I have some favorites of my own. But I have to think there is something to what Anne Lamott has said.

I have to think that if the only prayers we ever said were, “thank you, thank you, thank you” and “help me, help me, help me,” frequently and sincerely, that those might just be enough.