Have you ever given a gift to someone — a gift that either you worked hard to purchase, spent much time making, or that held deep sentimental value, only to find the value lost on the person who received it?

Boy, I sure have. When I was a little boy, my mom ordered me a stuffed pink bunny rabbit for Easter. Every day for weeks I ran to the mailbox to see if my rabbit had arrived, and everyday my mother would tell me to be patient, that the rabbit would arrive eventually.

Kids don’t want to hear "eventually." If the rabbit had arrived only minutes after placing the order, I probably wouldn’t have thought anything unusual. Asking me to understand why the rabbit wasn’t sitting in the mailbox immediately was like asking me to understand how it could be raining in Japan while the sky was a sunny blue here.

One day (finally!) – the "eventually" happened. My rabbit arrived. I tugged the long eared creature from the cardboard box and proceeded to love it to death. Over the years it became matted, the pink fading to off-white, but even as I reached my teens it held a place of honor on my shelf.

Then, when I was in high school, I met a girl. You can see where this is going. We began dating, and when it came time to graduate, she announced that her family was moving to another state. I was heart-broken. In a proclamation of my teenage love for her, a few days before she left I gave her my most prized possession, my stuffed rabbit.

I know, I know. I should have just given her a Hallmark. But I gave her my bunny. And what’s worse, as she was packing up her house, I saw her fling the bunny into a box by its ear, as if it was a dirty sock going into the laundry basket.

My jaw dropped open; I felt my face go flush. But I didn’t say anything. How could I? At 17, how could I ask her to "please treat my stuffed pink bunny with more respect"?

This thought crossed my mind the other day when thinking about Easter. Christ gave us an Easter gift, too. Although His was far, far more valuable than a stuffed bunny rabbit, it too was one of those that is not appreciated like it should be.

But then again, how can it be? How do we thank someone who gave His life so that we may live?

Do me a favor. Next chance you get, take a moment and stop thinking about what you have to do tomorrow. Stop thinking about what you have to do later today, and stop thinking about what you have to do in five minutes. Even if just for a few minutes, live totally in the present moment.

Without the pre-occupation of tomorrow, you will suddenly find yourself appreciating God’s gifts with a new vision. Appreciation for the life He gave us, that’s how we say thanks.

Then take another moment. If you’re a parent, think of when you greeted your newborn for the first time. If you’re not a parent, envision a brand new mother and father. Envision the unimaginable delight they must feel, their tears of joy, their great adoration. Know that this is the way God feels about each and every one of you, each and every moment.

Knowing God loves you, that’s how we say thanks.

Now a biggee. If you have the means to do so — and with a little creativity, you will find the means (or God will find it for you) — serve. Even if for a day. Serve at a soup kitchen. Volunteer to teach about your profession for an hour at a local elementary school. Many schools would value such a lesson. Work for an hour or two at one of dozens of charitable organizations across southwest Kansas. Share some time at a home for seniors.

It’s by serving that we are able to recognize the Christ in others. And in doing so, we hold a mirror to ourselves. Seeing the Christ in others, that’s how we say thanks.

Post Script: I did manage to get my rabbit back, "eventually." There’s no real moral here, I was just really glad to have it back.