Thank You, Seven Years Late

People have strong feelings about Thank You notes.

We did not get a thank you note for a wedding gift we had shipped to a couple getting married in Denver until a full year had passed. According to Emily Post, contrary to popular myth, a couple does not have a year’s grace period. All thank you notes should be written within three months of the receipt of the gift according to Emily's protocol.

At a family member's wedding the bride came to the microphone during the reception, thanked everyone for their gifts and said she was not sending thank you notes. The mother of the bride was so embarrassed, she sent the thank you notes instead.

When we combined our wedding gift thank you note with a Christmas greeting we were criticized for breach of protocol. If you live in the Southern states it’s not unusual to receive a thank you note for inviting someone in for a cup of coffee which usually arrives not much after you almost finish cleaning up the cups and saucers. And now in the age of evites and electronic greeting cards, thank you notes arrive electronically for everyone on our friends list to read.

Older adults lament the fact that young people do not adequately acknowledge gifts and demonstrate gratitude. The current youth generation does not typically write notes, but there’s still the push-button telephone, as old fashioned as it may be. Texting works if one can decipher the acronyms and symbols.

Despite all of the do and don’t of thank you notes, one of the best thank you notes I ever received did not arrive until seven years after the fact.

The story of the Seven Years Late Thank You note began, obviously, seven years ago! Couple friends decided they wanted to invite their neighborhood to supper on a Monday evening and introduce them to the Gospel. Feeling less confident about the Scriptural part they invited me and my wife to handle that portion of the evening. Their written invitations to the neighbors clearly indicated there would be spiritual discussion. Amazingly, about 20 people showed up and ultimately committed to a six week study. The neighbors may have showed up for the food, but they ended up with a different food that brought them back for more.

Having no knowledge of the neighbors or their walks in life, I prayed long and hard for the Lord to reveal the right Scripture passage for this gathering on the first night. I felt drawn to Joshua 1:9 ___ Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.

After I shared that passage, one couple opened up and related, through teary words, how their 14 year-old daughter had died from an asthma attack and the Joshua verse was her favorite passage and her daily meditation. Their testimony spoke to each one in the group ____ be strong and courageous as we confront any hurdle in life.

The group was an overwhelming success. At the close of the six-week study the host family wrote me a thank you note, put it aside and forgot to mail it … until seven years later. My friend said she had found the note in a drawer between some papers and decided to mail it anyway as it would provide an opportunity to once again praise God for his faithfulness.

Just as Joshua 1:9 spoke to the group attendees … the thank you arriving seven years later spoke to my spirit. There are always some days God has to send a faithful witness or a blessing from left field to remind us to be strong, courageous, and know he will always be with us. The seven-year-late thank you note did just that for me.

Sometimes rules need to be put aside. Most people would not dream of sending a thank you note seven years after the fact. But I’m glad my friend did, because that’s exactly what God knew I needed the day it arrived.

It really does not matter how we say thank you ___ whether it be Facebook, an old fashioned push-button telephone, snail mail, smart phone or texts full of grammar errors and misspelled words. And it really doesn’t matter when we say thank you. Emily Post may say we have X amount of time to say thank you. I say, “Forget it! Just do it!”

It is far better to say thank you, regardless of the timing, than to not say thank you at all.

Here’s a suggestion: Think about someone you should thank for any reason ___ a gift, an act of kindness, being a friend or close family member. Call, write, text and say thanks for being part of your life. If you’re reminded about lateness or other set of rules, acknowledge it and smile through it, because you’ve already done the most important part ___ you said thank you. Then trust the Lord because you have no idea what blessing God has in store for the recipient of your gratitude.

Robert Parlante

March 2014

Making Poor Choices

Ten-year-old minds do not always think logically.

In the late 1940s we were still trying to recover from the end of a world war. In spite of everything being said about the coming economic boom, money was still tight for everyone in our small coal-mining town. I figured a son should help his coal-mining father by trying to contribute to the household finances while we needed it the most.

On a Saturday afternoon when I saw the rag picker lumbering along the country road, in front of our home, in his rattletrap pick-up truck, an idea somehow began to take shape. The old codger driving the overloaded heap was honking his horn announcing he was buying rags, old clothes and scrap metal. The going rate was five cents a pound. I decided to take on the challenge! I told the truck driver to sit tight while I ran back to our house to hunt for pickings to sell.

Five cents per pound sounded mighty tempting, but I had to decide what to sell. I thought about old shoes and boots. How about hats, coats, trousers? I figured the heavier the better. Weight equals more money, and a speedy way to get simple cash. But now the purpose for that money crossed my mind again. Should I put it into the household kitty jar? Maybe, I concluded reluctantly when I began to think about all the other options I could exercise with my new-found wealth.

I started my search for ragged clothing by rummaging through the chifferobe in my bedroom. There was not much in there to begin with so I considered mom’s old clothing. Way too light. Heavier is better I decided, and I focused on trying to find something among my dad’s clothes.

I shouted silently as I realized my dad’s coal mining work clothes were the perfect match. They were tattered and always looked blacken no matter how many times my mother laundered them. His belts and boots seemed to weigh a ton. I was sure my father would love to see me clean up his old work clothes as he deserved to buy new ones anyway.

I had no problem rounding up ten pounds of dad’s clothes to sell. I carried my pile of plunder to the pick-up truck and the driver waiting patiently. The sale was quick and smooth even though the rag-picker looked suspiciously in my direction when I walked away. I should have realized then that this was not going to end well.

But I was fifty cents richer, and that felt great. The idea of contributing the funds to the kitty jar faded as I fingered the dimes and nickels in my hand. Maybe I’ll buy some comic books? Maybe candy? I decided on candy as that was the last thing my mom would consider buying as it was not deemed food for feeding a family. I still remember relishing every nibble of the several Almond Joy candies I ended up buying. Today, it’s still my favorite candy.

On early Monday morning when dad got up at dawn’s light for work I realized my entrepreneurial escapade was not thought out rationally. I was still in bed, and I could hear my father’s voice exploding like bombs all over the house. I realized then that buying new work clothes for dad was not going to be easy as there were likely no spare funds available.

His voice reverberated throughout the house, “Where are my clothes?” It sounded like a death sentence with no reprieve. My illogical strategy became even more apparent ____ you should buy first and then sell or donate old clothes!

I pulled the chenille bed-cover over my head as if not seeing me would make me disappear. I knew I was in trouble having created a big mess. Ultimately, I had to admit guilt and acknowledge I was ready for punishment.

Dad reminded me, “The candy may have been good but there are always consequences.”

The punishment was metered out swiftly. Early to bed and no radio until he said it was OK to listen to the Lone Ranger again. Even as a ten-year-old I concluded selling dad’s mining clothes was a dumb idea. Like sinful behaviors, making lousy choices leads to pain.

The good news is that my father forgave me, and later, he had a good laugh over the incident. His forgiveness felt like the balm of Gilead, soothing my grief. I got the radio and the Lone Ranger back. My bed time hour returned to old habits. And in some miraculous way my mom found the extra funds to buy dad some new, but used, work clothes.

Now looking back, I thank God for a father’s love that forgives and forgets and makes paths smooth again. My father was not perfect, but none of us can claim perfection.

That childhood event still lingers within my adult spirit as a powerful reminder. Back then I cried myself to sleep wondering what was happening to the Lone Ranger and his horse Silver. Today I can laugh in hindsight and be thankful for the lessons learned.

As we go through life trying to do our best we will always face hurdles of our own doing. We will make some poor choices that may affect our spiritual walk. And there are always consequences.

Beyond the obvious ___ to think before you act ___ we must seek God’s strength. He is the perfect Father, his forgiveness is everlasting, and he promises to forget our shortfalls when we seek his mercies ____ which are new every morning. (Lamentations 3:22-23)

Robert Parlante

March 2014