Happily Ever After: The Life-Changing Power of a Grateful Heart Read online

  I found out later that not only had Stephanie gotten her students to bring a great part of the day to the forefront of their thoughts, but she implemented use of a “My Blessings” book where they kept a log of each day’s happy memory.

  After starting her class’s gratitude program, she wrote me to say, “Thank you for the idea. It’s amazing how taking one minute out of a busy day to reflect can change your view on life! You are inspirational and my students are thankful for this!”

  Right back at ya, Stephanie. Thank you for recognizing the possibility for change and having such a special impact on the children in your community. Keep up the great work!

  GENERATIONS OF GRATITUDE

  No matter your title at work—president, manager, executive assistant—if you are a parent, caring for your children is the most important job you have, or it should be. Most likely, it’s also the most selfless job you have. Certainly one without monetary compensation and probably without even simple thanks, especially if you are the parent of an infant or teenager. You may not hear voluntary expressions of gratitude come out of their little (or big) mouths every day, but the rewards run so much deeper, and you can take them with you for years and years to come.

  Knowing how wonderful it feels to have my kids say “I love you, Mommy” without prompting makes me question how often I gave my own parents those special rewards of acknowledgment when I was a child. I realize now that it wasn’t nearly as frequently as I should have. I obviously can’t change the past. What I can do is honor my parents’ legacy.

  Before our kids were born, Ryan and I decided that one of the most profound ways to do that was through the names we chose for their grandchildren. Our firstborn, Maxwell Alston Sutter, shares his middle name with “Grampa B” (Ryan’s dad), and our baby girl was given my mother’s maiden name: Blakesley. Upon hearing the news about her namesake, my mother sent me this note: “This is the most incredible ‘gratitude gift’ I could ever receive,” she wrote. “It says ‘thank you for all you did when I was growing up,’ it says ‘thank you to Grandma and Grandpa for being who they are.’ It says, ‘I’m proud of my family.’ It is a gift that will always be remembered! Love you, Mama!”

  I hope that every time my children hear their names, a little happy spark inside them reminds them of the legacy of their family, a legacy to be proud of.

  TRADITIONAL THANKS

  Every year, on the fourth Thursday of November, Americans gather around dining room tables or card tables or anywhere they can find a spot, and feast in honor of a day that originally celebrated a successful harvest. A national Thanksgiving Day holiday was the brainchild of Sarah Josepha Hale, an influential American writer and editor who lobbied five US presidents to officially observe a day that, for years, only New England celebrated. After reading her letter, President Abraham Lincoln agreed, deciding our country needed a little positive focus during the struggles of the Civil War. Smart woman—and man.

  Besides the annual trip from St. Louis to Evansville, Indiana, and devouring my grandmother’s homemade mashed potatoes and candied yams, my family never really established any traditions of giving thanks. As the mother of our family’s next generation, that’s one thing I decided to change. My friend Evin gave me the perfect idea of how to do that.

  Every year she can remember, and probably even before that, the Thanksgiving celebration in Evin’s family has started exactly the same way. When the turkey and fixin’s are about ready, the family gathers around the dining room table, which is rich in history and memories—it has been around since 1920 and was once owned by her great-grandparents. Everyone holds hands. After saying grace, Evin’s father, Tom Garret-son, asks for a moment of silence: “Let’s remember those who have stood here before us and those who can’t be with us.” He then proceeds to squeeze the hand of the person to his right, who then squeezes the hand of the person to his or her right, and so on, until those squeezes wrap around the entire table, connecting everyone with a simple gesture of love. Then, from youngest to oldest, each person reveals one thing he or she is grateful for. It’s a tradition that fills their hearts and souls in a much more lasting way than even the most delicious turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, and pumpkin pie can do.

  We may not have an antique table to circle around in our home, but I am committed to making sure that all the other pieces of their gratitude puzzle find a place with us this Thanksgiving and every year thereafter. Thanks, Evin!

  FOLLOW MY LEAD

  American writer Clarence Budington Kelland once said something that really resonates with me, something I think about every day: “He didn’t tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it.”

  Nothing proves the veracity of this sentiment like living with a preschooler. If I raise my voice at our anxiety-ridden Yorkie, Tank—who barks so intensely when we leave the house that our neighborhood must think we should be reported to PETA—I know that my kids will start mimicking me, pleading with the dog to take it down a notch or twelve as my voice rises a notch or twelve.

  The same goes for the flip side. When I catch Blakesley rocking her doll, Baby Mia, to sleep, saying, “It’s okay, baby,” and reading her stories, my heart swells with the knowledge that the countless hours I’ve done the same with her on my lap have made an impression.

  We look to the elders in our life—friends, teachers, aunts and uncles, and those we have to thank for our very existence—to show us how it’s done, especially when we’re young.

  Through a friend, I learned of a graduation speech for the University of Pennsylvania’s class of 2012, which was published on the website Daily Good. It was given by Nipun Mehta, founder of ServiceSpace.org. As the ending to his speech that May, he shared a story with the graduates about his great-grandfather that I found particularly touching and relevant. I didn’t have the chance to get to know my great-grandparents, but if I had, I’d have wanted them to be just like this man.

  I want to close with a story about my great-grandfather. He was a man of little wealth who still managed to give every single day of his life. Each morning, he had a ritual of going on a walk—and as he walked, he diligently fed the anthills along his path with small pinches of wheat flour. Now that is an act of micro generosity so small that it might seem utterly negligible, in the grand scheme of the universe. How does it matter? It matters in that it changed him inside. And my great-grandfather’s goodness shaped the worldview of my grandparents who in turn influenced that of their children—my parents. Today those ants and the anthills are gone, but my great-grandpa’s spirit is very much embedded in all my actions and their future ripples. It is precisely these small, often invisible, acts of inner transformation that mold the stuff of our being, and bend the arc of our shared destiny.

  On your walk, today and always, I wish you the eyes to see the anthills and the heart to feed them with joy.

  May you be blessed. Change yourself—change the world.

  My sorority sister Casley told me of a sweet nightly activity she does with her son Sam. As she tucks him in and turns on his nightlight, filling the ceiling with stars, they each choose one, make a wish, and say something they are thankful for. If you don’t have a similar nightlight, improvise with the stars outside or even something like eyelashes or belly buttons. It’s not only a way to remind yourself of your blessings, but also to create a bond with your child that will continue long past their brief childhood.

  At our friend Joel Dekanich’s fortieth birthday party, his kids read forty reasons they are grateful for their dad. What a special way to celebrate! This can be used for anything—birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, or just as a thank-you-for-being-you moment.

  Take a lesson from the book of childhood and touch base with your inner preschooler every once in a while. Embrace the simple joys of life as if you were still seeing it through innocent eyes, just as Phoebe demonstrated to Rachel on an episode of Friends when she showed her how much more fun running through Central Park was if you wildly flaile
d your arms. I also highly recommend skipping! If you don’t want to look quite so silly, you can also belt out “The Wheels on the Bus” in the comfort of your own home or reenact Cameron Diaz’s famous booty shake in Charlie’s Angels. I dare you to let loose and get giggling.

  Helping my kids lay the foundation for self-confidence is one of the biggest honors of my life. To help them believe in their own inner beauty, I try to provide a good example of healthy self-esteem, I offer positive reinforcement whenever humanly possible, and I have them repeat their “magic words” every night (inspired by the movie The Help). The phrases are slightly different based on the kids’ individual personalities, but both start with the same statement: “I am kind.” To do the same, choose a word or string of words that will help encourage your child’s sense of self-worth and remember what Geoffrey Canada, an American activist and educator, once said: “You want kids really thinking ‘I’m somebody special.’ Have them say that every day and they grow up believing it.”

  Create an environment of empathy by expecting your kids to complete certain age-appropriate chores, such as feeding your family pet, making their beds, or tidying up their toys. As Charlotte Latvala described on Parents.com, by participating in daily work duties, children will gain a much stronger understanding of the effort that goes into the everyday and appreciate your hard work that much more.

  Take a hint from NothingButCountry.com and have your kids or family create an Appreciation Jar. It could be for a teacher or camp counselor, a grandparent or family friend. Maybe it’s for a special day, or maybe just a little pick-me-up. Regardless, it’s simple: cut out hearts from construction paper and have pertinent people write something they appreciate about the recipient. Decorate the jar together, as you’d like, and make sure to take in all the joy that will undoubtedly resonate from that special person in your little one’s life.

  All in the Extended Family

  Other things may change us, but we start and end with family.

  —ANTHONY BRANDT

  CHAPTER FIVE

  MY LIFE ON EARTH STARTED AT 12:46 P.M. ON October 28, 1972. It was a day of significance commemorated only by an official hospital photo and the sweet words my mother recorded in a baby book: “Father was allowed to be in the delivery room and the labor room, and he loved every minute.” I’m not sure that my mom felt the same as my dad until the pain of childbirth was over, but as far as I’m concerned, from the moment I cried my first cry, I can’t remember a time that I didn’t feel loved.

  Since my childhood, whether I deserved it or not, my parents have been my faithful fans. And the same holds true for the support I’ve received from the rest of my family, both immediate and extended—including the thoughtful woman my father married after my parents’ divorce; the Sewings, who caringly took me in as an honorary family member so that I wouldn’t be alone while my mom went to work; and even those I didn’t see that often, such as my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Reality television then led me to Ryan and a whole new set of family members who, despite the circuslike intrusion of pop culture chaos that we brought to their lives, have always made me feel welcome and cherished.

  My blended extended family is full of different personalities, lifestyles, hardships, careers, interests, hopes, and dreams, and thanks to that diversity and history, I have been taught important lessons about how to live a (mostly) happy life. They may not have been written down or verbally explained during a formal course, but through their example and willingness to share their stories, every member of my extended family has shown me a unique way to approach life.

  Everyone has access to these lessons. Whether from your grandfather’s ninety years of experience, your four-year-old cousin’s enlightening viewpoint on the beauty of nature, or merely from the conversations you have with those who share your last name, our relatives are a seminar on life available to each of us should we simply choose to show up for class. You may not live in the same house or even the same country as they do, but when you were born, you were biologically linked to them, with their connective threads of yarn inescapably woven into your own personal tapestry.

  Life is short. Neither you nor your relatives is going to be around forever. Take advantage of the remarkable gift of family and connect with them while you still can. The distinct knowledge, experiences, and outlooks they possess will expand your horizons and illuminate an understanding of another time or place, helping to shape your own path to a fortunate future.

  GETTING TO KNOW YOU

  Thanks to the birds and the bees, or maybe even science, your family tree added a teeny-tiny branch on the day you were born. Stemming from two separate limbs that came together as one, you became part of the big picture of your heritage, full of history and culture, events and relationships.

  For me, I was always thankful for the past that led to my present, but it wasn’t necessarily something I was keenly interested in. After losing my grandmother, Ruth Rehn, on March 4, 2013, though, I started feeling the urge to learn more, not only as a way to keep her memory alive, but also as a way to show my children an important part of where they came from. Interestingly enough, soon after she passed away, I came across a New York Times article that discussed something called the “Do You Know Scale” (DYK) and the results of a study showing that it was “the best single predictor of children’s emotional health and happiness.”

  After Dr. Robyn Fivush realized that the learning-disabled students she worked with who knew more about their families were better able to face challenges, she joined forces with Dr. Marshall Duke and developed the DYK. The test gathers answers about family history that the children could not have personally experienced, including questions such as: “Do you know where your grandparents met?”; “Do you know the names of the schools your mom went to?”; and “Do you know the source of your name?”

  In 2001 Duke and Fivush posed the DYK to four dozen families and found that “higher scores on the Do You Know Scale were associated with higher levels of self-esteem, an internal locus of control (a belief in one’s own capacity to control what happens to him or her), better family functioning, lower levels of anxiety, fewer behavioral problems, and better chances for good outcomes if a child faces educational or emotional/behavioral difficulties.”

  With further research, however, they were able to determine that it wasn’t solely the act of learning facts about their families that positively influenced these children—it was the way in which they gained this knowledge and what developed as a result.

  Let me explain.

  Depending on the dynamics and personalities of family members, the narratives within the group can be one of three types. Either they are ascending (e.g., “we came from nothing, and with hard work we are now blessed”), descending (e.g., “we were blessed and now we have nothing”), or oscillating (e.g., “we’ve had ups and downs, but through it all, we had each other and will always be blessed”). Unlike the other types, the adolescents who experience oscillating narratives are not only knowledgeable about their family history, but they also develop a strong feeling of belonging to a group bigger than themselves (aka “intergenerational self”)—a group of people who will be there for one another, no matter what, when confronted with life’s struggles. The development of the intergenerational self, in turn, leads to greater self-confidence and increased resilience. That’s nothing to shake a stick at when you are navigating the tumultuous teen years.

  From this research, we know that no matter what you are going through or have been through, if you have the support of a cohesive family unit, you are more likely to have the tools to handle it. The branches of your family tree may not be sheltered from stormy weather, but if you lovingly nourish the roots you came from, the connection and sense of belonging that develop can cause them to flourish even in the most dire conditions.

  So carve out time to regularly talk to the members of your extended family about the details of their lives and the positive ways in which they faced hards
hips. Not only could you pave the way for more personal happiness, but if you pay attention, you might just learn something.

  FROM DISGRACE TO DELIGHT

  As our first teachers, our parents (or other primary caregivers) influence our lives more than anyone else. The loving ones tell us their stories and share their learned wisdom to establish a connection with us and hopefully set us on a path to a future brighter than their own. For my mom, there is one story in particular that she initially told me in my adolescence. A story that came full circle only a few years ago and one that I will always be grateful for.

  Born in 1946, my mom was the second oldest of four sisters raised in a very strict Catholic home. They attended mass every day except Saturday. After mass on Sunday, they were quizzed on the gospel to make sure they were all listening. And since it was a sin to eat before receiving Communion, my mom would occasionally pass out at mass.

  In this religious context, my mother was taught to be afraid. She grew up with a profound fear of thinking bad thoughts, saying bad words, disagreeing with Catholicism, and having to ultimately pay for her worldly sins in hell. And if one sin was more unforgiveable than the rest for a young Catholic girl during this era, it was premarital sex.

  Near the end of my mom’s senior year at Purdue University, she found herself happily dating a young man. It was going great until one night when things got out of control. As he held her down, she realized that his desire to have sex was more important to him than her right to say no. She tried to fight him off, but she just didn’t have the strength.

  In the aftermath of that awful night, my mom was scared. Scared not only of the nightmares that tormented her sleep, but of the hurtful labels, the undeniable disgrace, and the repercussions she feared she would experience if she ended up as a shameful unwed mother, unable to hide what had happened. As she explained to me, in those dark days before women’s rights, women who had been sexually abused were anything but victims. The concept of “date rape” had yet to be recognized, so anyone in an established relationship who was having sexual intercourse was considered a willing participant, regardless of how it really happened. Add to the mix a family that kept its issues buried and had difficulties connecting, and it’s no surprise that fear was her natural reaction. If her family found out, she knew she would finally be branded the black sheep she had always worried she was—never living up to her older sister’s perfection. She didn’t feel that she had anyone to go to. She prayed that there would be no ramifications beyond the violation itself, but her fear that God wouldn’t answer her prayers was overwhelming. It ended up playing a major role in determining her life path, a path that for decades was for the most part traveled alone.