The Virtues: Gratitude
In a world that often measures success by the accumulation of “more,” Sue’s house stood as a quiet rebellion. It wasn’t that she lacked ambition; she simply possessed a profound, rhythmic appreciation for the “enough.” For her two granddaughters, Rebekah and Sarah, the most valuable inheritance they would ever receive wasn’t stored in a jewelry box or a bank vault. It was a perspective—the virtue of gratefulness. It was woven into the fabric of their childhood through the simplest of rituals.
Sue’s primary tool was the “Blessing Bowl,” a chipped ceramic vessel that sat in the center of her kitchen table. Every time they ate dinner together, before the steam had even settled on the soup, the girls were required to jot down a note naming something or someone they were grateful for and drop it into the special bowl. It couldn’t be about a purchase – it had to be a true expression of thanks.
The depth of Sue’s gratitude wasn’t born from a life of ease, but from a harrowing escape. Her contentment was rooted in a choice to flee the Chinese Communist Revolution. She arrived in America with nothing but the clothes on her back and a heavy heart, but to Sue, every slice of bread and every peaceful night’s sleep was a miracle.
“If you look for what is missing, you will find a desert.
If you look for what is present, you will find a garden.”
On rainy afternoons when the girls were bored, she didn’t turn on the television. Instead, she took them to the porch and said, “listen to the garden drinking.” They learned to be thankful in seeing a mundane weather event as the miracle of sustenance.
As the girls grew into adulthood and each faced their first major setback, they moved from a ceramic bowl to a lived reality: instinctively reaching for a pen to list the things that were still right in the world.
Sue passed away on a quiet day in March, leaving behind a house full of modest things. But as Rebekah and Sarah stood in her kitchen, they didn’t feel a sense of loss. They looked at the Blessing Bowl, now overflowing with years of recorded joys, and realized they were the wealthiest women they knew.
Their grandmother Sue hadn’t just taught them to say “thank you”; she had taught them to live “thankfully,” rooted in the profound relief of a woman who had found safety and freedom in a new world. It was a legacy gift, a golden thread of contentment she wove into the lives of her grandchildren.
Sue was my mother-in-law.
Diana Hou (Grandly Assistant) and her husband, Dewey, live in Okemos, Michigan.