With the attack in Christchurch and the anticipation of the completion of the Mueller investigation and all the other craziness in the news and in the world around us, I wouldn’t be surprised if you missed this story. Tanitoluwa Adewumi, eight years old, an immigrant and homeless, won the New York State Chess championship for his age group. He began learning chess a year ago. Now, twelve months or so later, he is the New York State champion for his age group. I had seen the headline about this flash through my social media feed sometime this past week, but didn’t pay much attention to it. Then, this morning, I read Nicholas Kristof’s Op-Ed column in the New York Times. What a great story about people stepping up to help and of life falling into place for an eight year old and his family.
Besides the warm feeling I got reading the article, which not only highlighted what has unfolded for Tani and his family, it provided a much needed and very welcome reminder of the good in the world that too often gets drowned out by the noise. But, what struck me most in Kristof’s Op-Ed piece was the comment by Tani’s father found at the end of the article. When Tani and his family could have taken the money and run, Tani’s father said, “God has already blessed me. I want to release my blessing to others.”
I want to release my blessing to others.
When was the last time that thought seriously crossed your mind?
When was the last time you looked around at the fullness of your own life and rather than just feeling good and maybe whispering Thank you, you opened your heart and your checkbook and moved commitments around on your calendar and changed the top two priorities on your To Do list and did something to release your blessings? For me, it’s been awhile.
I don’t know how it is in your life.
I have a hard enough time figuring out my own.
But today I found myself wondering why it takes someone like Tani’s father to remind me, who, in the scheme of things, has so much, of what gratitude really looks life and feels like and acts like, and the difference it can and does make.