Gratitude...

As I was driving back from dropping off Jesse and his friend, Hannah, at Brandy Creek for a Planned Parenthood outing, I was struck by all of the handmade signs along the roadway thanking the firefighters for their efforts. It was encouraging to see the gratitude for the wieldy, enormous task that is wildland fire management.

For the past few weeks, I have driven to work down Highway 273, passing fire trucks and crews switching shifts at the command center set up at the fairgrounds. I have met fire fighters from all over the western US-- Idaho, Montana, Oregon and elsewhere. I have thanked them all, and shared my awe of the sacrifices they make to help an entire region of strangers. They sleep on the ground, away from their families, their homes, the things that make them comfortable in their everyday life. They get dirty, sweaty, burned, and otherwise injured.

They do their jobs like lives depend upon it.

Then I wondered to myself: why it is that we only see this kind of outpouring of compassion and gratitude after the fire bells ring? What if we were this considerate of one another even after the dangerous flames were extinguished? What if, every day, more people made an effort to extend kindness to others, as if their lives depended upon it? Because, maybe it does.

I am the first to admit that I’m not always as courteous or kind as I should be. Heel that I am, I often forget to remind my family how much I appreciate it when they do something right, or kind, or extraordinary. I wonder if life would be better if I hung out a huge banner in the driveway that said, “Katie, good job getting home on time!” or, “Jesse, thanks for doing the dishes without being asked!” or, “Honey, thanks for ditching golf last night!” ?