I’ll be honest with you, writing about gratitude hasn’t always come easy to me. Not because I don’t believe in it, but because I didn’t want to paint a picture that felt fake.
Life hasn’t always been smooth, and I didn’t want to pretend that it had been. But as I look back over the years, especially now in this later chapter of my life, I can say with full conviction: I’m grateful. Deeply, tearfully, and joyfully grateful.
Not for a perfect life, but for the grace that’s carried me through every imperfect moment.
You see, gratitude isn’t just something that spills out of us when everything's going well. That kind of gratitude is easy and short-lived. The kind I’m talking about runs deeper. It’s the kind that grows in the soil of real life, often fertilized by loss, disappointment, and learning to let go.
It’s not loud or flashy. Sometimes, it shows up in a whispered prayer, or in a quiet moment when you look around your living room and realize, this is more than enough.
When I think about my life, I see both beauty and brokenness. I’ve had the joy of a good home growing up, loving parents, and siblings who’ve stayed close through the years.
I’ve been blessed with an incredible wife, our children, and now, those precious grandkids who somehow make everything seem new again. But I’ve also faced struggles, doubts, and heartaches. And through all of it, gratitude has been a lifeline.
It’s easy to thank God when the bank account is full or when my doctor says everything has come back clean. But what about when the doors don’t open, or your prayers don’t get answered the way you’d hoped? That’s when gratitude becomes a choice, a powerful one.
And maybe that’s what makes it holy.
Gratitude shifts your focus. It really does. When you begin to give thanks, not just for the big moments, but the small, ordinary gifts, you start to see your world differently.
Suddenly, a quiet morning coffee with my wife feels sacred. A hug from my grandchildren carries weight. Even the struggles (trust me, we all have them) become teachers.
I’ve noticed that when I practice thankfulness, I’m less likely to obsess over what’s missing. My heart calms down. I feel more rooted. I see Father God more clearly, not as a distant fixer of problems, but as a Father who’s walking with me through all of it, every step, every stumble.
Gratitude doesn’t mean we ignore pain. It simply means we refuse to let pain be the whole story.
There’s this idea floating around that gratitude is soft. Passive. But I actually think it’s one of the strongest, most defiant things you can do in a hard world.
When you stop in the middle of a storm and say, “Thank You, Papa,” you’re not giving up. You’re standing up. You’re saying, “I choose to see Your goodness, even here.”
That’s powerful.
I think of Paul in prison, writing letters filled with praise. He wasn’t living in luxury. He didn’t have Instagram-worthy surroundings. But he had a heart tuned to grace, and that made all the difference.
Simply, he understood what it meant to rejoice always, not because everything was fine, but because God was still faithful.
If you’re in a tough season right now, you might be thinking, “That sounds nice, but how do I even begin?”
Friend, start small. Start with one thing today. Just one. Maybe it’s the roof over your head or a smile from someone at the grocery store. Maybe it’s just the fact that you woke up this morning.
Write it down. Say it out loud. Whisper it to God. Gratitude grows with practice, like a muscle that gets stronger the more you use it.
And the beautiful thing is, it doesn’t just change your day. It begins to change you.
More than anything else, gratitude draws us into the heart of God. It shifts us from striving to surrender. From panic to peace. It turns our prayers into conversations and our complaints into worship.
I’ve found that the more I thank Him, the more I see Him. Not always in big, flashy miracles, but in the slow, steady faithfulness of His presence. In the way He stays. In the way He holds me, even when I feel like falling apart.
Gratitude has taught me to stop looking for perfect circumstances and start looking for God in the midst of them.
You don’t have to wait until life feels better to be grateful. In fact, don’t. Start today, right where you are. Let gratitude become your lens. Let it color the way you speak to your family, the way you treat strangers, and the way you pray.
Let it soften your heart. Let it remind you that you're never alone.
And when the hard days come, and they will, you’ll have something strong inside you. A root system of thanks.
A memory of all the ways God has come through before. A deep knowing that His goodness hasn’t changed.
Writing this has been a personal journey. It’s made me reflect, repent, rejoice, and re-centre my focus. I didn’t write it because I’ve mastered gratitude; I wrote it because gratitude has mastered me.
It’s saved me from bitterness, rescued me from anxiety, and opened my eyes to beauty I would’ve otherwise missed.
So thank you for reading this. For walking this road with me. For being open to the sacred, simple practice of giving thanks.
My hope is that you don’t just close this blog with a warm feeling, but with a decision. To live a grateful life.
Every day. In every season. Because when you do, you won’t just see the blessings; you’ll become one.
Rox Nolin
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