Gratitude for Gratitude

Last night, I celebrated my birthday again, this time with a friend I've known for several years who shares the same birthday as me (plus a few years) and while we are very different people in some ways, we are incredibly similar in some, too.  It makes me wonder if sharing the day of our birth somehow makes us understand things in a ways others cannot.

Happy Birthday to us!

Let me tell you a bit about our evening and how it brought me to a place of even deeper gratitude for Nate and a new commitment to speaking my gratitude aloud for at least one person to hear.

When Nate and I arrived at the restaurant last night, the hostess initially seated us in a very cramped part of the restaurant.  There wasn't even room for Nate to wheel his chair under the table without blocking the narrow walkway between the tables.  Yes, it was a Saturday night, but the restaurant was big enough to have the kind of space available that someone in an electric wheelchair truly needs in order to enjoy an evening out that the rest of us able-bodied folks take for granted.  I find it easy to become vocal about Nate's needs when we spend time together.  I notice so much of what he experiences on a daily basis and 90% of it just makes me angry.  After seating us at an impossible table (and after the hostess looked over Nate's head directly at me to ask a question about him), I got angry enough to get up and ask for another table.  Eventually, they found us one and we made the great trek to the other side of the restaurant (people needing to move themselves or their chairs in order to let us through).  We were re-seated at a table in the corner near the side door which was opened often, and every time it was we nearly froze to death but it didn't matter.  We were about to have a great time, as we always do, laughing, talking about work, relationships, God, the meaning of suffering and so much more.

Something always happens when I spend time with Nate.  A part of me feels his pain.  A part of me wishes to make things easy for him, even if just for the hours we are together.  A part of me worries that I will outlive him.  A part of me sees the beauty and great humility that comes from someone who must ask for help.

More than anything, after I've spent time with Nate, I am always reminded of the miraculous capacity humans have to face any amount of suffering and move through it to a place of not just survival, but gratitude.  Nate was proud to have lived fifteen years as a quadriplegic.  Turning 1 year older was a source of pride for him, despite all that you and I might view as the pain and loss in those fifteen years.

Nate is a teacher, like me.  He's caring and compassionate, just like me.  He has the ability to engage anyone in conversation and wants to make them laugh.  Last night complete strangers came over to speak to him - some offered to take our photo (Nate would tell you that it's because we are the two most attractive people in the world - unfortunately, that picture didn't save so we only have a few dark camera phone self-portraits to prove his theory).  Our waiter even thanked us for making his night a little bit brighter after struggling with a challenging party of 20 people (they were right next to us - between the camera flashes all night and, apparently, the bill divided 20 ways, I can imagine what a headache the night must have been for him).

While we would have stayed out much later talking about the reasons that our souls chose the paths we are on in this lifetime, Nate had to return home.  Before we said goodbye, though, we made a commitment to something.  We even pinky swore on it.  Nate and I agreed to post one thing on each other's Facebook page that we are grateful for every single day.  We decided that there is always something to be grateful for.  Even the tiniest thing.  And sometimes, the things that we can be grateful for aren't so tiny - like a night that was more fun than any other we've had (that includes the Sox-Yankees game I got to see with him because he can get tickets in the handicap section).  I could have chosen to focus on the rough start to the evening because Nate's unique needs were not considered but instead, I choose to think about how the evening ended up to be quite wonderful - for Nate, for me and a waiter named Jason.

And just so you know a bit more about the kind of person Nate is, here's one final detail about last night:  I started to get indigestion toward the end of the evening from all of the spicy food we ate and he insisted on asking the waiter where the nearest drug store was - and then going out in the cold himself to get me Rolaids.

So, gratitude for gratitude, that's what I'm sharing with Nate.  May you, too, find someone to share your gratitude with.  This is a way for us to keep each other thinking positive and remembering to always find something to be thankful for, even on our darkest days.

Here is our Gratitude for Gratitude, day 1:

Amy: I'm grateful for honest friendship.

Nate: I am thankful for good food, good friendship, and good conversation!