There are seasons in life when gratitude feels almost impossible. When we’re stretched physically, weighed down emotionally, or wrestling with spiritual uncertainty, the idea of being thankful can feel hollow—like a demand we can’t meet. In those moments, gratitude isn’t the first instinct; survival is.
The last several weeks have felt like this for me. Work stress has been sky-high and I haven't been sleeping well. I suppose it is no surprise that I ended up sick with the sinus-nasal variant of the winter cold plaguing folks this time of year. As my health was restored, I experienced an issue with my vehicle; a high temperature warning which I'd never seen before. I got safely to my AA meeting and, afterward, went to a shop to have my coolant checked. A kind man assisted me; we did have to wait for steam to dissipate so he did not get burned opening the coolant reservoir. I was able to make it safely to our local mechanic where I left my key in the drop box and my husband Jon picked me up. I had to replace the radiator; that wasn't on my birthday wish list!
And yet, there’s a quiet truth we often rediscover only after the storm passes: gratitude isn’t a feeling we wait for. It’s a posture we choose.
God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Psalm 46:1 — New International Version (2011) (NIV)
Hard times have a way of narrowing our vision. Pain pulls our attention inward. Fatigue makes even small tasks feel monumental. Fear convinces us that the future is fragile. In these moments, gratitude doesn’t come naturally. It’s not supposed to. We’re human, and being human means we feel the full weight of our circumstances.
But being human also means we have the remarkable ability to choose how we meet those circumstances.
I can look back on these past couple of weeks with gratitude - my illness was only a few days and just a cold; not something more serious like pneumonia. A car repair is never something one wants but I'm grateful that I remained safe, that the kind man who filled my coolant stayed safe, and my husband provided me rides so I wasn't walking in the streets because of uncleared sidewalks. I also had several friends tell me to reach out if I ever need a ride to the gym in the future.
Living gratefully in difficult times isn’t about pretending everything is fine. It’s not about minimizing our struggles or forcing ourselves into a false positivity. Instead, it’s about staying open—open to the possibility that life still holds beauty, meaning, and connection even when we’re hurting.
Gratitude becomes an act of courage.
It’s the decision to look for light when darkness feels easier.
It’s the willingness to acknowledge small gifts when big answers haven’t arrived.
It’s the quiet resolve to keep our hearts from closing, even when they’re bruised.
When we choose gratitude—not as a reaction, but as a way of being—we begin to see life in its fullness. Not just the joys, but the lessons. Not just the victories, but the resilience forged in struggle. Gratitude doesn’t erase hardship, but it transforms how we move through it.
It reminds us that even in the hardest chapters, we are still connected to something larger than our pain:
• the people who walk beside us
• the moments of unexpected kindness
• the strength we didn’t know we had
• the hope that flickers even when we feel depleted
Gratitude is not a one-time choice; it’s a daily one. Some days it comes easily. Other days it’s a whisper we barely manage. But each time we choose it, we reclaim a bit of our power. We remind ourselves that life is not only what happens to us—it’s also how we respond.
And in choosing to live gratefully, we choose to live fully. As I approach my birthday, I am grateful for my family and friends plus kindness from unexpected strangers.
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