is a shining example of a woman who has never had cause tocomplain about the “ingratitude” of children. When I was a boy，Aunt Viola took her own mother into her home to love and takecare of; and she did the same thing for her husband’s mother. Ican still close my eyes and see those two old ladies sitting beforethe fire in Aunt Viola’s farmhouse. Were they any “trouble” to AuntViola? Oh， often， I suppose. But you would never have guessed itfrom her attitude. She loved those old ladies—so she pamperedthem， and spoiled them， and made them feel at home. In addition，Aunt Viola had six children of her own; but it never occurred to herthat she was doing anything especially noble， or deserved any halosfor taking these old ladies into her home. To her， it was the naturalthing， the right thing， the thing she wanted to do.
Where is Aunt Viola today? Well， she has now been a widowfor twenty-odd years， and she has five grown-up children—fiveseparate households—all clamouring to share her， and to have her come and live in their homes！ Her children adore her; they neverget enough of her. Out of “gratitude”？ Nonsense！ It is love—sheerlove. Those children breathed in warmth and radiant humankindness all during their childhoods. Is it any wonder that， nowthat the situation is reversed， they give back love?
So let us remember that to raise grateful children， we have tobe grateful. Let us remember “little pitchers have big ears”—andwatch what we say. The next time we are tempted to belittlesomeone’s kindness in the presence of our children， let’s stop.
Let’s never say： “Look at these dishcloths Cousin Sue sent forChristmas. She knit them herself. They didn’t cost her a cent！”
The remark may seem trivial to us—but the children are listening.
So， instead， we had better say： “Look at the hours Cousin Suespent making these for Christmas！ Isn’t she nice? Let’s write her athank—you note right now.” And our children may unconsciouslyabsorb the habit of praise and appreciation.
To avoid resentment and worry over ingratitude， here is Rule 3：A. Instead of worrying about ingratitude， let’s expect it. Let’sremember that Jesus healed ten lepers in one day-and only onethanked Him. Why should we expect more gratitude than Jesusgot?
B. Let’s remember that the only way to find happiness is not toexpect gratitude， but to give for the joy of giving.
C. Let’s remember that gratitude is a “cultivated” trait; so if wewant our children to be grateful， we must train them to be grateful.
Chapter 45
Would You Take a Million DollarsFor What You Have
I have known Harold Abbott for years. He lives at 820 SouthMadison Avenue， Webb City， Missouri. He used to be my lecturemanager. One day he and I met in Kansas City and he drove medown to my farm at Belton， Missouri. During that drive， I askedhim how he kept from worrying; and he told me an inspiringstory that I shall never forget.
“I used to worry a lot，” he said， “but one spring day in 1934，I was walking down West Dougherty Street in Webb City whenI saw a sight that banished all my worries. It all happened in tenseconds， but during those ten seconds I learned more about howto live than I had learned in the previous ten years. For two yearsI had been running a grocery store in Webb City，” Harold Abbottsaid， as he told me the story. “I had not only lost all my savings，but I had incurred debts that took me seven years to pay back.
My grocery store had been closed the previous Saturday; andnow I was going to the Merchants and Miners Bank to borrowmoney so I could go to Kansas City to look for a job. I walked likea beaten man. I had lost all my fight and faith. Then suddenlyI saw coming down the street a man who had no legs. He wassitting on a little wooden platform equipped with wheels fromroller skates. He propelled himself along the street with a block ofwood in each hand. I met him just after he had crossed the streetand was starting to lift himself up a few inches over the kerb tothe sidewalk. As he tilted his little wooden platform to an angle，his eyes met mine. He greeted me with a grand smile. ‘Goodmorning， sir. It is a fine morning， isn’t it?’ he said with spirit. AsI stood looking at him， I realised how rich I was. I had two legs.
I could walk. I felt ashamed of my self-pity. I said to myself if hecan be happy， cheerful， and confident without legs， I certainly canwith legs. I could already feel my chest lifting. I had intended toask the Merchants and Miners Bank for only one hundred dollars.
But now I had courage to ask for two hundred. I had intended tosay that I wanted to go to Kansas City to try to get a job. But nowI announced confidently that I wanted to go to Kansas City to geta job. I got the loan; and I got the job.
“I now have the following words pasted on my bathroommirror， and I read them every morning as I shave：I had the blues because I had no shoes，Until upon the street， I met a man who had no feet.
I once asked Eddie Rickenbacker what was the biggest lessonhe had learned from drifting about with his companions in liferafts for twenty-one days， hopelessly lost in the Pacific. ”Thebiggest lesson I learned from that experience，” he said， “was thatif you have all the fresh water you want to drink and all the foodyou want to eat， you ought never to complain about anything.”
Time ran an article about a sergeant who had been woundedon Guadalcanal. Hit in the throat by a shell fragment， thissergeant had had seven blood transfusions. Writing a note tohis doctor， he asked： “Will I live?” The doctor replied： “Yes.” Hewrote another note， asking：“Will I be able to talk?” Again theanswer was yes. He then wrote another note， saying： “Then whatin hell am I worrying about?”
Why don’t you stop right now and ask yourself： “What in the hellam I worrying about?” You will probably find that it is comparativelyunimportant and insignificant.