It seems fitting, with November on the horizon, to end this series with gratitude. While I’m terribly inconsistent (why is that?!), I tend to be much more content in life when I take the time to count my blessings.
Don’t get me wrong. Sometimes giving thanks is hard.
In a pinch, I can quickly list off the easy ones: gorgeous sunsets, that first cup of coffee in the morning, the smiles of my children. I’m thankful for the food in my fridge, checking off tasks on my to-do list, my husband’s laughter. I praise God for the brilliant red leaves on our tree outside, a full night’s sleep, a homily that convicts me deeply. But life isn’t all sunshine and roses, is it? Life is hard.
When we discovered my son may have a learning disability, it was hard to give thanks.
When my marriage was crumbling, it was hard to give thanks.
When I struggled with crushing anxiety and depression, it was hard to give thanks.
When people in my life let me down, when earnest prayers felt like they went unanswered, when I felt so alone, it was hard to give thanks.
But.
It’s in these moments, the moments that are so difficult and feel so impossible, that I must muscle my way toward gratitude. Even when I can’t see the finish line, I trust that He does.
My son may have trouble reading, but dyslexia also means that he is a creative, out-of-the box thinker.
My marriage almost ended a few years ago, but that trial by fire has reignited our love and commitment in a whole new way.
My postpartum hormones have brought me down dark and scary places, but have also forced me to learn about myself and how I work.
My disappointment and loneliness have brought me closer to Christ in a way I never have before.
Everything is a gift.
