I never thought myself an Ingrate. Not until my phone almost fell into a pot of stew.
I was in the kitchen, multitasking like the well-brought-up kid I am, one hand stirring my meat stew, one hand playing Candy Crush. The stew was bubbling while my phone was balanced carelessly in my hand—a stupid move. One minute, I was a Proverbs 31 woman, and the next, my new screen guard was shattered.
The phone hit the floor instead of sinking into boiling oil, and for a split second, my heart stopped. But mostly from annoyance.
I hissed. Loudly.
And then, almost immediately, I realised something deeply embarrassing.
The only reason I was angry… was because my own carelessness didn’t cost me more. If anything, I should have been saying Thank You, Jesus, for saving me from a boiling phone.
But gratitude is rarely our first instinct. Entitlement is.
It is so easy to feel entitled. It hides in the little things people do for us that we overlook as ‘normal’ and in the subtle things they do that we classify as ‘love’.
I like to think of myself as a grateful person. One who doesn’t take for granted the sacrifices made for me. But what of the things that don’t look like sacrifices, so we don’t label them as such?
The bag of pure water my aunt buys when we run out, never asking me to transfer my share.
The bike ride we both take to a place that benefits us equally, and I hop down without once wondering who paid.
The inconveniences I complain about due to my own ignorance, that are quietly solved by someone else
The little things. Things that make my heart swell when I do think about them, but are so easy to overlook in the moment. I might be a grateful person, but gratitude that only shows up for dramatic gestures is mere performance.
And family makes this even easier.
In sibling relationships. In parent-child dynamics. We hide behind these as though they automatically excuse acknowledgement.
Yes, there is love at home, but would it hurt to say thank you…and mean it?
The lastborn in me sometimes wants to act out when problems aren’t treated as emergencies. But recently I’ve been reminding myself that even they have battles I cannot see. After all, we are all just people going through life. We just happen to share a surname. That is not a small thing. That is a privilege.
And then there’s God.
When was the last time you thanked him before moaning about something else?
My phone fell, but it didn’t burn or explode. All it did was cost me a screen guard I can probably live without (even though I really shouldn’t), yet my first instinct was frustration. And I wonder how often this is my posture toward life.
How many times has mercy looked so “normal” that I missed it?
How many quiet provisions have I rebranded as “expected”?
Maybe entitlement isn’t loud. Maybe it’s subtle. Maybe it sounds like silence when thank you should have been spoken.
So, this is my reminder. Firstly, to myself:
Say thank you.
For the pure water.
For the paid bike fare.
For the siblings who are trying.
For the parents who did their best.
For the phone that didn’t fall into my sweet stew.
Because not everything that feels ordinary is guaranteed.
And maybe gratitude isn’t about waiting for big miracles.
Maybe it’s about noticing the ones that almost went wrong.
These are not easy conversations, and they don’t always end neatly. If this piece stirred something in you, or made you pause and reflect on your own relationships, you’re welcome to reach out and talk to us right here – https://www.justhummingbird.com/contact-me/. And if you need legal or creative guidance and support, you can also explore the services we offer right here – https://services.justhummingbird.com/.