Sacred Moments: Gratitude

With fall in the air, this season of harvest, bounty, gatherings, and rest, we turn our attention to giving thanks. In his letters to the early churches, Paul gives similar and very practical advice—
 

• rejoice always;
• pray without ceasing;
• praise God with psalms, songs and hymns;
• and give thanks in all circumstances.

I suspect most of us have had varying degrees of success in following this advice, especially that last one—giving thanks even when it isn’t easy. Though Paul lived in a time of hardship and persecution, even writing many of his letters while in prison, he couldn’t imagine the state of our world today—political polarization, addiction and mental health crises, poverty, global pandemic, catastrophic climate change, violence and war…. Are we supposed to give thanks even in these circumstances? 

Give Thanks IN all Things, not FOR all Things
Psychological studies are increasingly touting the benefits of gratitude practices such as keeping a daily gratitude journal, noting moments of joy, or enumerating specific gratitudes to God. However, it would be bad, perhaps even cruel, to tell someone to give thanks when we can’t know all they might be dealing with. We need not make Paul’s counsel more difficult than it is. He advises us to give thanks IN all things, not FOR all things. He isn’t telling us to be thankful for the hardships we might encounter, but challenging us to find a way to express gratitude in whatever circumstances we might find ourselves. 

Perhaps amid his own difficulties and heartaches, Paul had discovered that maintaining the gratitude habits of his faith and finding ways to thank God, somehow opens a way to not be overwhelmed by the darkness. Recognizing even a minuscule gift of beauty, mercy, love, joy, or peace can wedge itself into our sadness and discontent. It can begin to create small cracks so that tiny rays of hope can shine. In the midst of pain and suffering, we need not contort ourselves into postures of gratitude, but simply make a habit of looking for some small thing we could possibly appreciate for not being awful. Then we simply say thank you to God for the thing that brings even a hint of normalcy or joy. We don’t need to give thanks for the circumstances, but for the glimpses of grace that might reach us, even in the midst of our pain or frustration.

And when a stone glitters in the sunlight,
I feel like I’ve just held a fallen star.

At the risk of appearing out of touch with reality, I’ve lately begun the habit of expressing my appreciation to anything that brings me joy. Never mind that my assessment of a thing of beauty may not be the same as someone else 

Thank you: Rose Bush

For example, the other day, I made it a point to thank the rose bush for putting on such a lovely display despite the dry weather and the Japanese beetles. I paused to notice a particularly beautiful bloom and buried my nose into a ruffle of pink, inhaling the fragrance. I felt connected to the life all around me. I took a deep breath of life-giving oxygen, thanks to the plants around me, and I sensed a life-force that included the rose bush and me.  
 

I paused to notice...
I felt connected to the life
all around me.

Thank you: BlueBirds

Another time, I waved and greeted the three bluebirds perched on the electric wires above me.  I thanked them for their beautiful melodies all summer long, and I expressed the hope that they would stay through the winter months. I was reminded of how long it had taken me to finally recognize their beautiful song among all the other birds and how much joy their songs had given me whether or not I caught a glimpse of their magical, blue-feathered suit with peach colored vest. They looked down at me curiously, but they didn’t fly away.  
 

Thank you: Stones

I border my flower beds with fist-sized stones. I have many flower beds, and I have many stones. I even have favorite stones. Is that crazy?  Some have a particular streak of mineral, and some glitter with mica. Some are smooth, worn by some unknown water source. Some have sharp edges, some are rough, and some are smooth as glass. I’m particularly fond of the red granite that goes around the daylily bed. They are the color of an Iowa sunset. When I pick up my stones and hold them in the palm of my hand, I feel like I can sense the life-force of the planet. And when a stone glitters in the sunlight, I feel like I’ve just held a fallen star. I thank the stones for their strength, their steadfastness, and for being the foundation for my garden bed, the essential ingredient for the rich soil.  

Thank you: Tree Frog

I went to the tool shed to grab a garden tool.  As I let the door swing aside, I was suddenly face-to-face with a walnut-sized tree frog clinging tightly to the siding.  “Well, hello, there!” I said surprised.  “I’m so glad you’re here.  You’ve probably been hiding in the hostas or the four-o’clocks. “The frog  never moved a muscle, probably hoping that I hadn’t seen him but I could see his beautiful lined eye watching me. I was amazed at how a mud-colored splotch of a tiny frog could be so perfect. I thanked him for making a meal of the pests in the garden, and then I gently removed the tool from the shed and shut the door so I didn’t disturb him.