Thank You Notes

Growing up in the South, manners were everything. From an early age, my mother emphasized us saying "may I," "please" and "thank you." These were everyday things. Then there were those big league manners. The manners of receiving a gift! Because this, my friend was an entire process--with steps! And these steps were to be followed no matter what when you a gift came your way--whether you liked it or not!

I think back on many a Christmas and birthday gifts that I actively detested. I had my 8-year-old mind on Barbie's Dream House, and I ended up with a new scratchy, poly-knit turtleneck. An abomination! What person in their right mind would EVER think I would want THAT?

But that was never ever never to show. In fact, not only was I taught to receive the gift with a smile on my face when in the presence of the giver, the ultimate in misery was yet to come--the thank you note. A verbal "thanks" was not enough, oh no no no. The time-honored practice of sitting down and taking the time to thank someone--with specifics--for what they had given was "the least you can do, for them taking the time, effort and money to give you a gift." Writing those notes was the bane of my existence in December and my birthday month of January! Though it could have taught me to be a really good liar (and I won't pretend that there weren't flat out lies and exaggerations at times), what it began to teach me over the process of my growing up was to receive the offering's intention and to look for the good--even in that scratchy poly turtleneck.

Finally, after the thank yous, there was the dealing with what to was become of the unwanted gift. There was never waste. I had to first think of someone who might like it or benefit from it. Mostly, they were sent to donation centers, or in someway re-purposed. Sometimes, at the end of January, we would take the things we weren't going to keep, as well as to go shopping for brand new gifts that we would like and . . . what?! . . . take them to a little girl our age at a nearby orphanage. Many years, I resented that, feeling like I got the raw end of the deal, and that she was getting all the gifts that I had wanted. Then, we would take her back to that big institutional building, and I would remember, "oh yeah. She got the raw deal here."

All that was a long time ago. What about those less tangible offerings? Life's curve balls? The unexpected and unwanted gifts of the Universe? How am I receiving those and am I offering back a thank you note?

Two weeks ago, I cultivated the first R of spaciousness, release. I let go of a long-held habit pre-anticipating outcomes (and the inevitable let downs and frustrations when what showed up was different than my vision of it). The spacious breath of summer continues and I've just spent 7 days cultivating the next R of spaciousness: RECEIVE.

What doe it mean to receive anyway? I spent some time contemplating the verb early in the week. To receive something indicates a few things. First in order for something to be received, something has to be offered. Secondly, to receive indicates an action. There is actually an engagement in receiving. Being offered a gift, I must reach out and open my hand to actually accept it. I could see something I don't like and refuse by never reaching out, or even closing my hand. Even if a gift is left on the doorstep I have to bend down and bring it to me. I'm making a free choice to receive what's being offered--or not.

And, while everyday is not Christmas or my birthday, my life makes lots of offerings, how am I receiving or refusing them? After spending a week practicing (and the practice continues) releasing expectations, I had tilled the soil for receiving. My hands were already open having let go of what I expected was going to be placed in them. I got Barbie Dream House gifts from my life, and I got some scratchy turtlenecks, but you know what? (My mom would be so proud!) I started writing mental--and sometimes even verbal--thank you notes for what life was serving up. I even came up with specifics of how the gift might be of value to me and how I might use it (or re-purpose it).

And this time . . . the "Sincerely, Abby" was heartfelt, with not a lie in sight! After all, manners and sincerity have to go hand-in-hand!

The 10 Rs of Spaciousness:
Release
Receive
You'll have to wait for the rest.