A number of years ago, I kept a gratitude journal for a few months. It was during a time of small children, work outside the home, and the usual strained relationship that comes with too much work and too little time to connect. The act of picking up my journal and pen each night forced me to look beyond the annoyances and trials of the day for the small bright spots.
Life is fundamentally different now. The children are teenagers. Being at home. A faith that in some weird way celebrates suffering, lifts it up as sacrifice. My outlook on life has taken the proverbial one-eighty. And I have so much more to be thankful for.
So I begin my One Thousand Gifts list.
- A blanket of yellow leaves on the lawn being covered by snow.
- Fresh coffee each morning, brewed on a timer.
- A warm dog on my bed when Z is away.
- Seeing my children change and grow in unexpected ways.
- Fresh, drinkable city-supplied water.
- Singing in my parish choir.
- The ache that comes from physical labour.