One Thousand Dishes – A Call to Radical Gratitude

Yesterday, I washed the dishes. Exciting, I know. How many times in my life have I washed the dishes? It’s impossible to count. How many times over the past 7.5 years in Thailand have I washed those same dishes (and by hand, nonetheless, because we don’t have dishwashers here)? One thousand times? Quite possibly.

As I rinsed the suds off those all-too-familiar plates yesterday, I asked God a simple, but poignant question: “What do I need to do to find contentment in this season of questions and waiting?” As His answer surfaced in my heart, I almost laughed. “Radical thanksgiving,” He said.

Of course. Hasn’t that been the response to nearly every request I’ve ever made while searching for peace, contentment, or joy?

But I can be absurdly forgetful. The malady of mankind, I suppose.

How many times, while scraping the leftover eggs out of that pan, have I given thanks for the pan? For the eggs cooked in it? For the stove to cook them on and the propane to fuel the fire? For the ability to stand, safely, in my kitchen and use able hands? Definitely not one thousand times.

In that moment, my mind turned the mental pages of the best book I’ve ever read on gratitude, Ann Voskamp’s One Thousand Gifts, and I recalled a scene that she wrote after discovering thankfulness while also washing dishes. 

“April sun pools into a dishwater sink, liquid daylight on hands.
The water is hot. I wash dishes. On my arms, just below the hiked sleeves, suds leave delicate water marks. Suds glisten. And over the soaking pots, the soap bubbles stack. This fragile tension arched in spheres of slick elastic sheets.
Light impinges on slippery film.
And I only notice because I’m looking for this and it’s the rays falling, reflecting off the outer surface off a bubble … Like the glimmer on raven wing, the angles, the hues, the brilliant fluid, light on the waves.
I touch wonder and fragility quivers … and bulges. Merges. Melds. Ripens full round, time shimmering clear.
And bursts.
Science may explain mechanics, but how do the eyes of the soul see?”

One Thousand Gifts, p. 62

Yes, how do the eyes of the soul see? What lens am I looking at my world through? There are many to choose from – and we do choose – to see reddened through anger, blackened through worry, greened through comparison, dusky through discontent. 

But I want to see the rainbow of a bubble through gratitude.

Our soulsight is sharpened through practice, and it’s not enough to just say I’m going to be thankful. I need to actively capture gratitude. Ann’s way of writing a list of one thousand gifts is a keenly practical way to do so. Another way that I want to try, is to combine my thankfulness with practicing awareness of God’s presence through each of my senses.

For me, it will look like this:
During a quiet (or maybe it should be a busy!) moment of the day, I will pause and give thanks for …

• 5 things I can see

• 4 things I can touch

• 3 things I can hear

• 2 things I can smell

• 1 thing I can taste

This is, in fact, a practice known in the world of psychology as grounding, and it’s incredibly useful for calming yourself (or a child) in the midst of an emotionally charged situation, but I want to take it a step or two further into intentional gratitude and acknowledgment of God’s nearness to me in the gift of each of those things.

So, let’s begin. Right now …

Thank you, Abba, for a two-toned wooden elephant, hand-carved with raised trunk; tiny yellow bird in a green 
mango tree; worn book, bent and stained; golden ring from generations past; cluttered art table filled with 
daughter’s creations.

Thank you, Abba, for smooth keys transmitting my thoughts into letters into words; cold water in a ceramic cup; cozy sweatshirt I’m reluctant to remove even as the afternoon warms; freckled skin wrinkled by play in the sun.

Thank you, Abba, for the strained bubbling of a fish tank; bird song; “Jessica’s Theme” ringtone.

Thank you, Abba, for salty remnants of baked cauliflower; a winter-scented candle that reminds me of both 
friendship and Christmas.

Thank you, Abba, for naam-pueng (honey) oranges. 

And now, it must be time for a snack break. Care to join me?