Written by Sarah Logemann
As a child, I learned about thankfulness on a visit to a farm.
I was raised in cities and suburbs, and in my mind, the grocery store was the origin of all food. My everyday life was several physical and mental steps removed from the production of what I ate, and I simply did not think about where it all came from.
One day, my grandfather took all the kids in the family to the farm that he grew up on. As we toured the land and the house and the barn, his stories animated our imaginations until we could almost see it... Grandpa and his siblings milking cows, threshing wheat, harvesting corn, and shooing the rabbits away from the tomatoes.
His description of growing wheat was especially surprising to me. Despite having read the Little Red Hen, I had never really thought about how many steps were involved just to get flour (the most basic of ingredients) to make bread (the most basic of foods). Planting and watering and waiting and tending and harvesting and threshing and hulling and milling and sifting… Grandpa showed us where he did every step.
After touring Grandpa’s farm, we went home for lunch, and I could have sworn that the food tasted better. Our grilled cheese sandwiches did not come from the farm – they were probably made with wonder bread and American cheese singles – but I appreciated the food in an entirely new way. I thought of all of the work that went into it, and imagined the people who were involved in every step. I even ate the crust that day.
Thankfulness and food are deeply intertwined. From the very beginning of time, people have offered gratitude for meals and celebrated God’s provision around food. The Bible begins in a garden and goes on to recount stories of manna in the desert, Jesus feeding 5,000, and Passover feasts.
Food is certainly not the only thing we have to be grateful for, but it can show us the way to cultivate lives of thanksgiving in us and in children. Even without visiting a farm, consider four things when cultivating gratitude in kids:
Cultivating thankfulness in children is an intentional commitment, but its harvest is well worth the effort.
SARAH LOGEMANN is a Masters of Divinity candidate at Princeton Theological Seminary. She has spent the last thirteen years working in congregations in Seattle, Ohio, New Jersey, and New York City engaging children, youth, and young adults in spiritual formation. A former ballerina, Sarah is interested in connecting movement, stories, and faith. She loves wondering, running, and watching the Tour de France.