We started the practice years ago after the first time I read Ann Voskamp’s life-changing One Thousand Gifts.
We were fresh home from China with Superman and in the thick of frequently moving, frequently deploying, frequently failing military life.
In the midst of surgeries and separations and months on end of single parenting, I wanted to document all the beautiful things all of us had each day to be grateful for.
So we started family gratitude journals.
For the last five or six years, the boys have documented one thing each day (or each day that they actually remember) that they thank God for.
But somewhere along the way, life and lunch packing and waging morning hygiene battles with little boys who don’t believe in toothpaste got in the way, and I stopped logging my daily blessings in mine.
And I noticed something small and subtle and ultimately totally life changing take place.
When my eyes don’t view my life through the intentional and daily lens of gratitude, they quickly begin interpreting my life instead through the dangerous lens of entitlement.
They shift the blessings to the background and the frustrations to the forefront.
And they begin noticing only what I don’t have instead of everything I do.
Without gratitude, in the same set of circumstances, I transform from content to complaining. From a celebrator to a critic.
From a worshipper to an all-out whiner.
(Feel like you’ve read this blog before? That’s because this dense hot mess needs Jesus and this lesson exactly 1 million times a day.)
Yesterday, as we were sitting in the family room of the empty rental house of the sweetest neighbors who insisted we use their second home for internet when we were on Day 10 without internet in ours (bless you, internet provider who has come to the house three times and fixed nothing — just bless you), I heard Superhero 1 practicing his trumpet and recording music for his band class in the other room.
When I walked in, he was playing this.
And it was like God’s tender and touching invitation to once again view this beautiful world and this acoustic version of my life through that intentional lens of gratitude.
To open wide my eyes to not just casually observe this beauty but to intently gaze upon it with new, childlike wonder.
And oh, in this season, the endless things we have to be grateful for.
Tulips and trampolines, bonfires and patio grills.
Sprinklers and lawn chairs and little boy laughter when they get wet.
Rediscovered basketball hoops and repaired tether ball poles.
Boys who are learning to become best friends yet again.
Big brothers pushing walkers through storm-scattered pine straw.
5 p.m. rocking chair dates with husbands at home.
Texts from neighbors just checking in.
Group texts with friends that keep laughter-tears rolling.
Hammocks that hang perfectly between back yard trees.
Birds in front bushes who sing as we all wake.
Back yard labor that breaks a sweat.
Spring-filtered sunshine that isn’t too hot yet.
Kick ball and wiffle ball and corn hole and soccer.
Rousing bouts of Risk that last for days and days.
The position of the rising sun on morning trail runs.
The position of little feet that appear on big laps while we read.
Yoga mats stretched across family room floors.
Old people jokes told by littles when downward dog looks more like London Bridge.
Belly laughter from boys who wrestle all day long.
Blow dryers busted out for cakes that won’t cool.
Star Wars figurines and plastic clone battles between brothers.
Little boy Legos that litter every carpet, rug and floor.
Snuggling and story reading and book devouring and book exchanging.
Afternoon naps tucked in blankets with boys.
Newspaper print that smells like Gutenberg in your hands.
Zoom, Facetime, streaming musicals and streaming everything.
Artichoke provolone melts that appear on plates at lunch.
Online cooking classes and Covid Cake Club.
Mexican frittatas, Singapore noodles and from-scratch peanut butter pies.
14-year-old chefs who’ve returned to the kitchen.
Family Zoom meetings and 1990s home videos.
4 a.m. texts from far-away friends who pray.
Heart-warming smiles from boys who haven’t always been yours.
Hugs and thank yous and little squeezes around the neck.
Bedtime stories and bedtime kisses and bedtimes that last until we are all actually rested.
God’s patience, forgiveness, lavish love and GRACE.
His Word. His truth. His presence. His voice.
An opportunity to play the acoustic version of a normally electric life.
These people. This family. This precious, priceless, absolutely invaluable TIME.
Our internet is still not fixed, and every one of the therapists who spend five hours a week attempting to provide PT, OT and speech on back-woods, cell-phone-sponsored Zoom meetings may eventually release us as tele-medicine patients.
But what IS restored is my perspective — the one our gracious God, in all His goodness, seems to need to repair in this hot mess more times a day than her internet.
Struggling with the Quarantine Doldrums?
Try making your own gratitude list.
It’s amazing how focusing on your blessings instead of your burdens changes your perspective of the very same circumstances.
Because despite any circumstances we may be facing, He’s a wonderful God.
It’s a wonderful world.
“Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”
~ 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
(Photo by Jordan McQueen on Unsplash)