By Nancy Patrick

In my daily crossword puzzle the other day I ran across the word “ingrate.” I began thinking about that word and concluded that perhaps I should add it to my vocabulary.

“Ingrate” refers a thankless, ungrateful, forgetful, unsatisfied, or mindless person. Do we have such people in our world today? The answer is “yes,” and we find the first ones in the Garden of Eden where God created the first human beings. How could Adam or Eve be an ingrate? 

The answer lies in human nature’s tendency to want what others have rather than accept gratefully what we have. These areas of discontent range from attributes such as beauty, mental acuity, family heritage, talent, and financial status to anything else that categorizes people.

No one seems grateful to be “average.” New parents first look to see that their infants have ten toes and ten fingers to ensure their “normalcy.” They keep baby books that chronicle every step in a child’s development. I refer to such things as age when the baby turns over, smiles, sprouts a first tooth, walks a first step, and says the first word. 

I actually still have my forty-nine-year-old son’s baby book. I added to that a scrapbook for each year of elementary school that includes photos and certificates of accomplishments.

Why are these things so important to us? Do we fear that others might have an advantage over us or our children? Do we actually feel the need to compete as early as the delivery room? Why?

These questions lead me to my subject of ingratitude. On an objective scale, I know that I am a very lucky person. Not only am I average or normal, but I rise above those standards in many areas. Even so, I find myself bemoaning my limitations, especially as I age.

Then the other day as I watched the Paralympics in Paris, I was more than astonished. I saw young people running with artificial legs, swimming with or without prosthetic limbs, competing in archery by using their feet in the absence of arms and hands, and participating in other athletic events that I found incomprehensible. 

I googled the term “Paralympic” to see exactly what it meant. I found a list of ten impairment types used to qualify for participation in the Paralympics contest. The criteria are very specific for each sport but seem designed to give as many people as possible the opportunity to participate in chosen sports (Paris Paralympics 2024: How the classification system works – The Athletic (nytimes.com).

I don’t need to go into the particulars of that, but I do want to express my newfound amazement and gratitude in finding so many people with impairments that I have never experienced who find purpose and drive every day of their lives to do the seemingly impossible tasks they love.

I have been complaining for years about the pain I experience as a senior adult who deals with all the accompanying muscle, joint, and skeletal issues that come with age. I felt my face go beet red as I watched a young man with a prosthetic left leg and a partial left arm pole vault over a pole stationed high in the air. 

How could he do that? What kind of discipline would it take to master the skill of pole vaulting with four working limbs let alone doing it with two? I blush to think of my complaining because I hurt when I walk or do chores or buy groceries. How dare I fail to recognize my good fortune for the many years of health and flexibility I had before I began having pain!

I watched one young married couple—the wife participating in the regular Olympics and the husband in the Paralympics. When the young wife won her race, her husband shouted, cried, and hugged her because he rejoiced in her achievement.

Later, she did the same thing when her husband ran his own race with his prosthetic leg. Their joy was palpable as they expressed their gratitude for each other—Olympics or Paralympics—it didn’t matter.

All around me I see people in need of so much—health care, housing, money, mental health care, friends, or family support. In spite of my good fortune to have access to all the care I need in my life, I find ways to complain or feel ungrateful. 

I’m glad I ran across the word “ingrate.” It has an ugly sound to it—kind of guttural and hard. That is exactly what it is—being ungrateful is not acceptable for people like me. All I have to do is look around me—a beautiful home, reliable car, loving family, insurance, enough money, plenty of food, and good friends. I have no excuse for being an ingrate; rather, I must become a grateful person who thanks God for my undeserved blessings.

Nancy Patrick is a retired teacher who lives in Abilene and enjoys writing