Maybe you thought you were free from the onslaught of posts about gratitude now that Thanksgiving is behind us, but because it has been such a meaningful force in my life (and a truly surprising one), I’d like to give it a little more time, space, and consideration.
I’m always a little hesitant to talk about it for fear it will sound overly simple or even insulting to people who are suffering and struggling in deep and painful ways. The surprise for me is that in my deepest, darkest hours, gratitude is one of the things that has carried me, helped me to engage with life.
I’m not talking about gratitude as a mere reciting of words we’re “supposed to” say one day per year because someone has dictated that this is the time we give thanks. I’m not talking about pretending everything is great when it isn’t, glossing over the hard stuff, or being toxicly positive when life feels painful, hard, scary, or despairing.
I am talking about even in those times taking a pause to reflect on what I appreciate, who I appreciate, and what I am filled with gratitude for. It’s a feeling when it’s real – a feeling that resonates throughout my whole being. And somehow in the depths of loss and heartache, my appreciation and desire to not take things or people for granted has also deepened.
I’m not talking about a flowery gratitude journal like I imagine Oprah has (though if that’s your jam, go for it!). I’m talking about simply taking time each day to pause and reflect, to notice what it is I’m grateful for this day. Turning toward those things rather than getting swept away in how things could be or should be or will never be.
What I know is gratitude has changed my experience of life. It changes how I engage with life. It changes what I notice and what I’m looking for. It changes how I feel. Even though it does not delete, erase, remove, or diminish losses and pain I never would have asked for. I’m not even suggesting we find the gratitude in that pain or those losses – which is surely there but can be far too hard to access in the midst of it.
You’re not going to hear me say, “Don’t be sad that they’re gone. Be grateful they were here.” I get it, AND I am both incredibly sad they’re gone no matter how grateful I am that they were in my life. Life isn’t so simple. Grief and gratitude coexist oddly well until we think that we can only have one or the other. They just are. It’s our minds that muddy the water by thinking we must choose this or that. I’m here to say, our hearts are perfectly capable of feeling both grief and gratitude, joy and heartache, longing and appreciation all at the same time!
Talking with a friend about whether to write this blog or not, she shared with me a beautiful heartfelt experience she and her family shared this Thanksgiving, initiated by a painted wooden spoon her 2-year-old granddaughter had created that came with the directions “Share what you are grateful for. Everyone else will listen with kind hearts.” This wasn’t a simple rote recitation where people talked over one another, but a sacred ceremony where people paused to reflect, spoke from their hearts, let their tears flow and truly experienced the heart-to-heart connection that was possible for a few moments of respite from a noisy world.
Right after getting off the phone with her, I had a message from another friend, a friend who lost her daughter several years ago. In this message she spoke of the depth of appreciation she feels in life along with the depths of pain. I took it as a sign that I was to write this piece, trusting that it will resonate with someone. If only one person, then that’s enough.
So, I offer you my gratitude for reading. It’s been hard for me write publicly these days, knowing the many layers of suffering and struggling that are so very real for so many. I don’t want to offer simple platitudes, ignore the very real pain and struggle, or seem insensitive or tone deaf. I certainly don’t want to insult or cause pain or harm. And, I’m not in charge of that. If I try to never do those things, I’ll never speak or write again. So, I listen to my heart and soul and I share what rises up from these spaces. I offer gratitude because without it, my life would look and feel very different than it does. Because it’s real – it’s not a fluffy new-agey idea. It’s available to us all anytime anywhere.
What might it look like? I’m grateful for these tears that flowed unbidden and honestly from my broken heart today. I’m grateful for a warm blanket on a chilly night. I’m grateful my son answered my text and we had a moment of connection. I’m grateful for the deep love that has led to my deep grief in missing my son, my mom, my friend. I’m grateful for people I can be honest with, for people who don’t try to fix or take away my pain, but somehow know how to just be there and give me space. I’m grateful for the beauty of sunset or snow-covered tree branches or the sound of a cardinal’s cry. I’m grateful I had the time, energy, and seed to fill our bird feeders on a cold winter’s day.
You can take a moment upon waking to think about what you’re grateful for as you enter your day – that can be really powerful and will create a far different energy than the all-too-common dread or exhaustion. I usually don’t think of it until just before going to bed when I take time to reflect on my day and the many moments and connections I had. That’s another nice time to pause and reflect and can help you ease into sleep a little more sweetly than regrets and self-recrimination would. At any moment, gratitude is available to you – sometimes it hits me while I’m driving in my car, and I’m grateful for the miracle of this machine that safely carries me so many places over so many miles. Right now, I’m grateful for taking the time to sit down at my desk and for these words flowing through my fingers to the keyboard to you! I’m grateful to make the time to connect again, and I’m deeply grateful to you for receiving these 1111 words and this invitation.
I’m always a little hesitant to talk about it for fear it will sound overly simple or even insulting to people who are suffering and struggling in deep and painful ways. The surprise for me is that in my deepest, darkest hours, gratitude is one of the things that has carried me, helped me to engage with life.
I’m not talking about gratitude as a mere reciting of words we’re “supposed to” say one day per year because someone has dictated that this is the time we give thanks. I’m not talking about pretending everything is great when it isn’t, glossing over the hard stuff, or being toxicly positive when life feels painful, hard, scary, or despairing.
I am talking about even in those times taking a pause to reflect on what I appreciate, who I appreciate, and what I am filled with gratitude for. It’s a feeling when it’s real – a feeling that resonates throughout my whole being. And somehow in the depths of loss and heartache, my appreciation and desire to not take things or people for granted has also deepened.
I’m not talking about a flowery gratitude journal like I imagine Oprah has (though if that’s your jam, go for it!). I’m talking about simply taking time each day to pause and reflect, to notice what it is I’m grateful for this day. Turning toward those things rather than getting swept away in how things could be or should be or will never be.
What I know is gratitude has changed my experience of life. It changes how I engage with life. It changes what I notice and what I’m looking for. It changes how I feel. Even though it does not delete, erase, remove, or diminish losses and pain I never would have asked for. I’m not even suggesting we find the gratitude in that pain or those losses – which is surely there but can be far too hard to access in the midst of it.
You’re not going to hear me say, “Don’t be sad that they’re gone. Be grateful they were here.” I get it, AND I am both incredibly sad they’re gone no matter how grateful I am that they were in my life. Life isn’t so simple. Grief and gratitude coexist oddly well until we think that we can only have one or the other. They just are. It’s our minds that muddy the water by thinking we must choose this or that. I’m here to say, our hearts are perfectly capable of feeling both grief and gratitude, joy and heartache, longing and appreciation all at the same time!
Talking with a friend about whether to write this blog or not, she shared with me a beautiful heartfelt experience she and her family shared this Thanksgiving, initiated by a painted wooden spoon her 2-year-old granddaughter had created that came with the directions “Share what you are grateful for. Everyone else will listen with kind hearts.” This wasn’t a simple rote recitation where people talked over one another, but a sacred ceremony where people paused to reflect, spoke from their hearts, let their tears flow and truly experienced the heart-to-heart connection that was possible for a few moments of respite from a noisy world.
Right after getting off the phone with her, I had a message from another friend, a friend who lost her daughter several years ago. In this message she spoke of the depth of appreciation she feels in life along with the depths of pain. I took it as a sign that I was to write this piece, trusting that it will resonate with someone. If only one person, then that’s enough.
So, I offer you my gratitude for reading. It’s been hard for me write publicly these days, knowing the many layers of suffering and struggling that are so very real for so many. I don’t want to offer simple platitudes, ignore the very real pain and struggle, or seem insensitive or tone deaf. I certainly don’t want to insult or cause pain or harm. And, I’m not in charge of that. If I try to never do those things, I’ll never speak or write again. So, I listen to my heart and soul and I share what rises up from these spaces. I offer gratitude because without it, my life would look and feel very different than it does. Because it’s real – it’s not a fluffy new-agey idea. It’s available to us all anytime anywhere.
What might it look like? I’m grateful for these tears that flowed unbidden and honestly from my broken heart today. I’m grateful for a warm blanket on a chilly night. I’m grateful my son answered my text and we had a moment of connection. I’m grateful for the deep love that has led to my deep grief in missing my son, my mom, my friend. I’m grateful for people I can be honest with, for people who don’t try to fix or take away my pain, but somehow know how to just be there and give me space. I’m grateful for the beauty of sunset or snow-covered tree branches or the sound of a cardinal’s cry. I’m grateful I had the time, energy, and seed to fill our bird feeders on a cold winter’s day.
You can take a moment upon waking to think about what you’re grateful for as you enter your day – that can be really powerful and will create a far different energy than the all-too-common dread or exhaustion. I usually don’t think of it until just before going to bed when I take time to reflect on my day and the many moments and connections I had. That’s another nice time to pause and reflect and can help you ease into sleep a little more sweetly than regrets and self-recrimination would. At any moment, gratitude is available to you – sometimes it hits me while I’m driving in my car, and I’m grateful for the miracle of this machine that safely carries me so many places over so many miles. Right now, I’m grateful for taking the time to sit down at my desk and for these words flowing through my fingers to the keyboard to you! I’m grateful to make the time to connect again, and I’m deeply grateful to you for receiving these 1111 words and this invitation.
RSS Feed