Does that sound like sheer， impractical， visionary idealism？
It isn’t. It is just horse sense. It is a good way for you and me tofind the happiness we long for. I know. I have seen it happen rightin my own family. My own mother and father gave for the joy ofhelping others. We were poor—always overwhelmed by debts. Yet，poor as we were， my father and mother always managed to sendmoney every year to an orphans’ home—the Christian Home inCouncil Bluffs， Iowa. Mother and Father never visited that home.
Probably no one thanked them for their gifts—except by letter—but they were richly repaid， for they had the joy of helping littlechildren—without wishing for or expecting any gratitude in return.
After I left home， I would always send Father and Mother acheque at Christmas and urge them to indulge in a few luxuriesfor themselves. But they rarely did. When I came home a few daysbefore Christmas， Father would tell me of the coal and groceries they had bought for some “widder woman” in town who had a lotof children and no money to buy food and fuel. What joy they gotout of these gifts—the joy of giving without accepting anythingwhatever in return！
I believe my father would almost have qualified for Aristotle’sdeion of the ideal man—the man most worthy of beinghappy. “The ideal man，” said Aristotle， “takes joy in doing favoursfor others； but he feels ashamed to have others do favours forhim. For it is a mark of superiority to confer a kindness； but it is amark of inferiority to receive it.”
Here is the second point I am trying to make in this chapter： Ifwe want to find happiness， let’s stop thinking about gratitude oringratitude and give for the inner joy of giving.
Parents have been tearing their hair about the ingratitude ofchildren for ten thousand years. Even Shakespeare’s King Learcried out： “How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have athankless child！”
But why should children be thankful—unless we train them tobe？ Ingratitude is natural—like weeds. Gratitude is like a rose. Ithas to be fed and watered and cultivated and loved and protected.
If our children are ungrateful， who is to blame？ Maybe we are.
If we have never taught them to express gratitude to others， howcan we expect them to be grateful to us？
I know a man in Chicago who has cause to complain of theingratitude of his stepsons. He slaved in a box factory， seldomearning more than forty dollars a week. He married a widow， andshe persuaded him to borrow money and send her two grownsons to college. Out of his salary of forty dollars a week， he had topay for food， rent， fuel， clothes， and also for the payments on hisnotes. He did this for four years， working like a coolie， and nevercomplaining.
Did he get any thanks？ No； his wife took it all for granted—and so did her sons. They never imagined that they owed theirstepfather anything—not even thanks！