Gratitude. It’s that word we all love to throw around as the holidays roll in, like glitter at a kindergarten craft table—beautiful in theory, but often a bit chaotic in practice. We’re told to “count our blessings,” but let’s be real: sometimes life hands you a calculator that keeps flashing error. And yet, gratitude, real gratitude, finds its way through the messiness of life.
This year, it settled into my heart in three surprising ways: joy, uncertainty, and legacy. Each brought its own lessons—some hilarious, some humbling, but all necessary. Together, they reminded me that gratitude isn’t about having it all figured out; it’s about holding space for the good, the messy, and the unknown.
Joy: Noticing the Small, Sacred Moments
Gratitude has an extraordinary way of slowing down time. It asks us to stop in the middle of the rush, of the chaos, and take notice of the sacred small moments that often go unseen. This year, I found myself pausing more than ever.
There was the morning light spilling into my kitchen, painting everything in gold while my children’s laughter echoed in the background. A perfectly imperfect moment that reminded me how often we take these fleeting seconds for granted. There was the joy of reconnecting with the Queenpins - a.k.a. my closest girlfriends - over dinner, the warmth of shared stories filling the air. Joy whispered to me in these spaces, “Look closely. This is it. This is the good stuff.”
Here’s the kicker: joy also popped up in places I didn’t expect. It arrived on the heels of really bad news, like a strange reminder that even when life feels upside down, there’s something worth clinging to. It’s the kind of joy that feels like a rebellious act against the weight of the world. And honestly, it’s my favorite kind.
But joy isn’t always loud and celebratory. Sometimes it’s quiet—a whispered “thank you” in the stillness of a hard day. It’s the kind of joy that exists because we decide to notice it. Gratitude becomes a choice, even in the mundane. Perhaps especially in the mundane.
Uncertainty: The Strange Gift of Stillness
If gratitude grows in unexpected places, uncertainty must be its favorite soil. This year, my life felt like one giant question mark. And let me tell you, sitting still to figure out your purpose is not as glamorous as the self-help books make it sound.
At first, I resisted. I’m a doer. Stillness felt like some kind of cruel punishment, as if life had thrown me into a waiting room with no magazines or Wi-Fi. But as the days turned into weeks, I started to realize that uncertainty wasn’t a curse—it was an invitation.
It’s funny how we fight the unknown, as if we’re supposed to have all the answers by page three of the book of life. But uncertainty has a way of humbling you, stripping away the noise and distractions until all you’re left with is the truth—or at least the awkward first draft of it.
This year, I learned to sit with the stillness, to stop rushing for answers like I was on a game show with a buzzer in hand. I asked hard questions, like, “What really matters?” and “Am I living a life that reflects my values?” Spoiler alert: I didn’t have all the answers. But I had moments of clarity that felt like little breadcrumbs leading me forward.
Gratitude for uncertainty is about learning to trust the process, even when the GPS keeps recalculating. It’s about realizing that not knowing is its own kind of freedom. After all, some of the best stories don’t reveal the ending until you’re ready for it.
Legacy: The Gratitude We Leave Behind
If joy is about savoring the present and uncertainty is about embracing the unknown, legacy is about the footprints we leave behind. This year, I spent a lot of time thinking about what it means to live a life that matters—not just to me, but to those who come after.
Legacy isn’t about grand gestures or having your name etched in marble. It’s in the small things we often overlook. It’s in the recipes my grandmother passed down, where her love lives in every pinch of salt. It’s in the sacrifices my parents made so I could dream bigger than they ever could.
And now, it’s in how I choose to show up—for my family, my community, and myself. Gratitude for legacy is an act of reflection and action. I carry the wisdom of those who walked before me, and I try to walk in a way that creates paths for others. It’s not always easy. Sometimes I falter, weighed down by the enormity of what it means to honor those who’ve poured into me. But gratitude reminds me to keep going.
And as I think about the generations that will follow, I want gratitude to be part of their inheritance. I want them to see that joy and pain are both necessary, that legacy is built on small moments of care, and that gratitude isn’t just something you feel—it’s something you do.
But let’s be honest: thinking about legacy can feel like a lot of pressure. Sometimes I wonder if my future great-grandkids will care that I tried my best or if they’ll just be annoyed I didn’t figure out teleportation or how to be a trillionaire. Still, I try. I try to live in a way that honors the past and invests in the future, even if that future includes family members who judge my Pandora playlists.
Finding Gratitude in the Mess
Gratitude isn’t neat. It doesn’t always come with a bow on top. Sometimes it’s messy, born from moments of laughter, tears, and the awkward in-between. This year, gratitude taught me that it’s not about perfection; it’s about perspective.
So, as we head into the season of giving thanks, I encourage you to pause—not just to name your blessings but to live in them. Look for joy in the small moments, embrace the uncertainty as part of the journey, and think about the legacy you’re building, one choice at a time.
Gratitude isn’t for the faint of heart. It requires courage, humility, and a healthy dose of humor. But it’s worth it. Because when you stop and really let it sink in, you realize that even in the chaos, life is pretty extraordinary.
And for that, I am endlessly grateful.
Comments