Thank you are two easy words to say and, for a lot of us, are not said enough.
Most of us take for granted how fortunate we were to be born in America with all the freedoms we have. Without those fighting for freedom all those years, we could easily be living under a dictatorship.
Even in the Bible, Jesus healed 10 people with leprosy, and only one came back to say thank you. Jesus said, “Where are the other nine?” One thing I tried to instill in my four boys was to say thank you.
Often, I would peel an apple or wash off grapes for them to eat, but they soon realized they had had one second to say thank you, or they didn’t get the fruit. Even when a clerk hands you the item you bought and your change and then look at you like, “Move out of the way,” it irritates me that they don’t say thank you.
We tried to say thank you every time after selling customers’ cattle. One time, one gal who worked there said, “Doing that, you are just kissing their rear.” I said, “No, when I get too proud to say thank you, then I didn’t deserve their business.”
As a lot of your families come in for Thanksgiving, try to think of those who have no family to be with and take them a plate of food. I think of every person who has served in the military and call them or take them cookies and say thank you.
The preacher said on Sunday, “God does not say I will, but instead he says I am now.” It’s not that God is not speaking to us. It’s that we are not listening.
One of the guys who worked for me at the sale barn that started when he was 18 years old had a birthday the other day. I texted him and said, “Happy birthday. How old are you?” He replied, “28.” He said, “Do you realize I have worked at the sale barn for 10 years?”
I said, “Wow, but working at the sale barn is the last step up just before heaven.” He said, “It is more like a bullet train that gets you there early.”
Just before Thanksgiving dinner do you know what Dad said when he was asked to say grace? “Grace.”
One memory of Thanksgiving was when the family went to my aunt’s for dinner. As we knocked on the door, she immediately started apologizing as she had overslept and didn’t get the turkey in the oven soon enough. I guess we ol’ farmers would say we had Thanksgiving supper, but you city folk would still call it dinner.
Editor’s note: The views expressed here are the author’s own and do not represent the view of High Plains Journal. Jerry Nine, Woodward, Oklahoma, is a lifetime cattleman who grew up on his family’s ranch near Slapout, Oklahoma.
