The question was simple enough. A woman posted on social media that she had given a quilt as a wedding gift and never received a thank you. Now the couple are expecting a baby and had sent her photos of baby patterns they prefer. 

 

"Should I make them another quilt?"

 

There were over twelve hundred responses. The entire membership of the group is seventy eight thousand, so well over one in a hundred spoke up. And while there is no sound attached to such conversations some of the writers appeared to be shouting.

 

I will spare you the details of the myriad accusations, judgments, even fury that spilled out from women who have themselves been burned by a lack of gratitude. A wide variety of snarky snubs erupted, with elaborate details about the expense and effort involved in sewing quilts. There were sweeping generalizations about young people today and the absence of good manners. 

 

Slipped in between the tirade there were a few calmer comments. 

 

"Let it go. You enjoyed making it."

 

As it happens I recently opened a thank you letter from a woman I gave a wedding quilt to a few years ago. She thanked me then, quite effusively as I recall, but she wanted me to know that they still love it. She even included a drawing by her little girl. I considered sending a note of thanks for the thanks, but decided against it. I wondered if I had given her a baby quilt. I think I did. 

 

The circle of generosity and appreciation is lovely. When it works. But if I am honest my own rate of return on the gifts God showers on me is embarrassingly low.

 

Once I was feeling miffed about an absence of acknowledgment for a present I had oh so magnanimously given, and a remembrance popped up. A long time ago someone had been gracious to our family, and I realized that I neglected to express my thanks. I picked up paper and wrote a very tardy card. 

 

Another time I was cognizant of not being appreciated for something, and the notion landed in my head about the rent we paid when we lived in California. The manse belonged to the church, and we were charged a flat fee. It never increased in twelve years, and was lower than what we now pay for electricity. It hadn't occurred to me in all that time to feel, much less express, my indebtedness for such a bargain. Now I think of it often. And speaking of power, why is it that the only time I am aware of what a marvelous blessing it is, is when it goes out? Or the wonder of my internet, when it is down? 

 

The majority of women who answered her question advised the quilter to never give another gift to anyone who neglects a proper thank you. 

 

What would happen to any of us if God followed such logic?