Life in the Palmetto State: The gratitude attitude

When is the last time you thanked the good Lord for something?

I don't mean casually, but like you meant it and were truly thankful?

Was it this morning, yesterday or last week? Can you even remember?

If you can't, it's OK; you're not in trouble. You are only human.

Statistics say 60% of people feel thankful at least once a day and a minuscule 28% say they feel thankful multiple times a day.

In my opinion, that's pretty minimal considering all He does for us.

Have you ever stopped to think that God is the true source that gets us through our day? Without Him we would be a wreck.

So if I had to say, I would think that it's all about our attitude. After all, attitude is the way we behave toward a person, object, concept or situation.

Let me tell you about two stories that are directly related to my topic.

In the late '80s, after I graduated from college, I took a job with an underground contractor where we installed water and sewer utilities.

We were home based out of Sumter and were working in a nearby town.

I had not been there very long, and on this particular morning, our planning meeting was interrupted by the most blood-curdling sound I think I have ever heard. To this day, that scream is indelibly etched in my mind.

My boss and I ran in the direction of this horrifying sound to realize our worst nightmare. The trench we were digging to install this sewer line had caved in on one of our workers, and he was buried over his head in this 15-foot-plus cut.

I have never seen fear like that on the faces of our crew that morning.

In fact, the trackhoe operator was so scared, he started to tear off his clothes. This was fear of Biblical proportions.

When we all came to and realized the task at hand of saving his life, all of the other trades shut down and came running over to see if they could help.

The only way we could locate this worker was to listen for his muffled moans under tons of dirt.

It just so happened, the trackhoe operator before he went berserk committed the cardinal sin and raked one more scoop of dirt off the top of him, but that was probably what saved his life, for that shortened the depth we had to dig through, with our hands and some shovel work.

His entrapment was not our only concern. One of our older workers nearly went into cardiac arrest, and the brother of the covered-up worker ran down in the ditch and knocked the ladder over. Falling on the top of his head, he was gashed open, bleeding everywhere.

Well, someone had called the EMTs, and they were standing by ready to assist.

After they addressed our ancillary problems, we were able to reach the entrapped worker and got him out of the ditch and into the ambulance.

They rushed him and I followed them to the local hospital where he was checked out and found to be just scared and other than some bruises was going to be fine. The truth to be known was when the dirt caved in on him, it knocked his hard hat down over his face and gave him just enough air for us to have time to get him out.

However, I will never forget his mouth and the foul language he was saying.

Instead of him being thankful and showing gratitude to our Lord and Savior who spared his life from a dirty tomb of death, he was cussin' everything he could think of, including God.

At that point, I am not sure what I found more troubling, the traumatic event I had just witnessed or his tirade of filthy expletives.

Whatever the case, I will never forget that day as long as I live, even though it has been almost 40 years since it happened.

The second story takes us way back to the late '60s, when we find a lovely and vibrant 17-year-old girl growing up in Baltimore, Maryland. She was the youngest of four daughters and was leading a carefree life of hiking, swimming, tennis, horseback riding and any other sort of sport she could participate in, especially because she grew up in a very athletic family.

Well, on one fateful day in July of 1967, Joni dove in to what turned out to be a very shallow part of the Chesapeake Bay and severed her spinal cord, doomed to be a paraplegic for the rest of her life.

After intensive emotional and physical therapy, Joni Eareckson got her life back on track and became an accomplished painter and author (all with her teeth) and used this tragedy as a catalyst for her life and testimony of how the good Lord used her life-changing experience for good.

Now, what is the difference in the two people in these stories?

The guy in the first story was not hurt, yet extremely bitter. His attitude of "why me" radiated through his whole life.

Not sure what or where he is now, for he quit the company soon after his scare.

Ms. Eareckson Tada, seemingly, has the attitude of why "not" me.

She has been such an inspiration. I actually saw her movie when it came out when I was in high school. I remember it being so emotional. I cried as her story was put out on the big screen.

The takeaway is this.

Our approach to life is our choice.

We can either be sad and think everything is out to get us, or we can look at it as a way to be thankful that it brings us closer to our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Folks, as hard as it may be, give thanks for all things, and remember James 1:2-4.

"Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of our faith produces perseverance."

And James 1:12: "Blessed is the one that perseveres under trial, because having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him."

It is all up to us.

We can either be miserable in our own skin or thank God for all things, good and bad, and live a peaceful life.

Pain is not to be denied, just not dwelt on. There is purpose in the pain.

How is your gratitude attitude?

May God bless you!

Lee Reaves Jr. is president of Clarendon County Historical Society.