Gratitude Is Caught More Than Taught

We pulled into the apartment complex with several Thanksgiving meals in the back of our van: hot turkey, sides, desserts, drinks…the works. Our family was delivering meals from the city mission and my husband and I rode with three of our granddaughters, ages 9-14. This whole-family mission trip was intentional. We wanted to both reach out to those less fortunate than ourselves and to help our grandchildren see how other people may live and realize how blessed they are.

At the first stop, a young woman answered with anxious fear in her eyes, suspicious of strangers at her door. Even though she knew we were coming, she did not trust us. At another apartment, no one answered; apparently, they forgot they had ordered a meal. Later, we stopped when the GPS told us we had arrived and found ourselves in the middle of an industrial block. One elderly gentleman on oxygen and obviously in bad health was so grateful that he teared up. He let us pray with him and was so thankful for the meal. A sweet couple invited us in and talked kindly with the girls.

We stopped to update our route and there we saw him. A relatively young man sitting by the street, looking lost and lonely. We had an extra meal, the one meant for the industrial block address, and we agreed we should offer it to him. My husband took it over while our granddaughters watched. We quietly cheered when he happily accepted it with a sincere thank you.

The girls were hands-on the whole time, carrying meals, drinks, and desserts up walkways and stairs. But the real work was happening inside them.
"I didn't know people lived like that."
"That place smelled musty and old."
"It's so sad that people are alone on a holiday, eating a meal someone else fixed for them."
And then, about stop number six: "How many more meals do we have before we're done?" Honest question. They were tired. They were subdued. They were uncomfortable. But they hung with us until the last meal was delivered.

On the drive home, the questions started. We talked about what we had to be thankful for. How privileged we were. How much we took for granted. When we arrived back at our house, the kids couldn't wait to share their stories with each other. The whole experience spilled out: the fear and anxiety, the gratitude, the smells, the man on the sidewalk.

And when we finally sat down to our own Thanksgiving meal, home-cooked, traditional, familiar, I watched them dig in with a different kind of appreciation.

The Truth About Gratitude

Psalm 78:4-7 reminds us that faith and character are passed to the next generation not through lectures, but through experience:

"We will not hide them from their children, but will tell a future generation the praiseworthy acts of the LORD, his might, and the wondrous works he has performed... so that they might put their confidence in God and not forget God's works."

Teaching gratitude isn't about handing kids a list of rules or just telling them to "be thankful." It's more about creating moments where they see God's faithfulness and provision in contrast to real need. Gratitude is caught more than taught.

My granddaughters are good kids. But comfort can insulate us from reality, and abundance can numb us to the blessings we enjoy. That's why experiences like this matter. Not because they make us feel good about ourselves for "helping the less fortunate." But because they crack open our small, self-focused worlds and let truth rush in: We have so much. And it's all gift.

One Thing You Can Do

Find one opportunity this season to serve alongside your children or grandchildren. Choose somewhere that will make them uncomfortable, somewhere that will raise questions, somewhere that will require them to carry something heavy (literally or figuratively).

It might be fixing and taking a meal to a shut-in or raking leaves for an elderly neighbor. You could visit a nursing home, babysit for an exhausted young mom, or help at a local food pantry. Don't give them a lecture beforehand. Don't force a "teaching moment" during. Just go. Serve. Be present. Let them see the need, feel the awkwardness, and wrestle with the questions.

Then, on the way home, ask: "What did you notice? What surprised you? What are you thinking about?" And listen. The seeds of gratitude are planted in the soil of real life—in the smell of that apartment, in the anxiety of the young lady, in the tears of that grateful man, in the silence of the tired van ride home.

Your kids are watching you more than they're listening to you. Let them see you serve. Let them see you give thanks in the middle of hard things. Let them catch what you're living.

Because gratitude isn't a lesson. It's a lifestyle.

Prayer: Lord, help me model authentic gratitude, not a performance, but a real, lived-out thankfulness that my children and grandchildren can catch. Open our eyes to see Your provision, and our hearts to sing Your praise. Amen