I'm sure your inbox today is packed, like mine, with messages of thankfulness, many of which feel very sterile and corporate. It's like a single PR intern typed out essentially the same message a hundred times. There's nothing wrong with messages of gratitude; it just seems like often it's more about checking the box than the substance.
Today is an entire holiday dedicated to the idea of being thankful. We all know that living a life of gratitude is healthy, but today is the single day dedicated to focusing on just that singular concept. We eat a huge meal and spend time with family and friends, giving thanks for the many extraordinary blessings God has bestowed upon us in this incredible life. And if you're reading this, your life is likely full of great gifts.
You're probably on a phone, a tablet, or a computer. That puts you in the slimmest of minorities of the most wealthy people to have ever existed on this planet. Maybe you're reading this as you're scrolling before the big meal. That meal is unimaginable to people across the world. We are genuinely profoundly blessed.
But also.
We are all sitting here at the tail end (hopefully) of a global pandemic. We keep waiting for life to go back to "normal" with no idea what or when that will be. No matter what happened to you the last few years - unemployment, endless Zoom meetings, illness, fear, depression, loss, or even none of the above - our worlds look drastically different than they did two Thanksgivings ago.
Stability still eludes us. Even those thriving in this new world face uncertainty. It punctuates everything we do now: travel, work, family, health, education.
When we start to go around the table today to say what we're thankful for, that cloud will still be there. It will come in the mention of those who died, the jobs lost, the sick, or the school missed. We'll feel it in the tightening of jaws and the extra wrinkles on the edges of smiles in photographs. There's no filter to airbrush the shared struggles we're facing.
Like a cavern right below the surface, we know it's there, but on a day to celebrate our blessings, why give it more power by acknowledging it? Is it like Voldemort in Harry Potter? If we give it more oxygen, like a fire, will it consume the gratefulness for our many genuine blessings?
I have decided that no, it will get bigger, like an abscess that cannot heal until confronted. I'm going to do precisely the opposite of my initial inclination - which is to pretend it's not there and smile as if nothing's wrong. We should talk about it head-on. It's been two years of acting like everything's normal in the hopes it will be.
Incidentally, that doesn't mean I want to be Pollyanna about it all. Things aren't all great, Bob. Yet, there is wisdom in the idea that we can grow only with struggle and discomfort. All I can control is my attitude and reaction, so I will use this day of thankfulness to dig into confronting those.
Unlike Voldemort, I think it is only by calling things out by name that we can move forward. So, here goes:
This year I am thankful for instability. Through being forced to hustle, I found new grit and determination. I tried new things that never would have happened otherwise and dug in where I simply could not before. The quote "chaos is a ladder" is accurate but requires chaos.
I am thankful for hardship; I am amazed at the friends who came to my aid. The kindness, thoughtfulness, and faith others have shown to me is overwhelmingly beautiful. I've told other friends who have gone through hard times that they'll be fine, and I wish they could see themselves the way I see them - but it's different when it's your life. Friends have hired me for contracts, subscribed to this newsletter, cheered me on, and pushed me forward.
I am also weirdly thankful for my shortcomings, which are many and vast. If everything were easy and simple, there would be no resistance to help me grow. In the same way it requires weights to lift to get stronger, my shortcomings provide me room for creativity and improvement.
All that makes me thankful for hard work, the kind of work that leaves you entirely spent at the end of the day. That work where things ache you didn't even know were there—throwing hay to the goats, cleaning out the chicken coops, the watering, the gardening. And the work of writing and reaching to be better every day. After a long day then it's time to chase the toddlers, and the well of gratitude I have for that well is bottomless.
I'm thankful for the mundane, as it wasn't until all our routines changed that we realized what a luxury it was. There is a special kind of comfort and beauty in the norm, and I never want to take it for granted again.
I'm thankful for mistakes, for they become the stories. Gathering with family and friends, I noticed the hardest belly laughs never come from the days where nothing happened. The more spectacularly wrong something went, the better the story. Man, do I have a lot of stories.
Mostly, I'm thankful for every breath - with each is the possibility of a new beginning, a new miracle, and a new normal. Happy Thanksgiving, my friends.
__________
Thanks for reading. Please leave me a comment below with what you’re thankful for today.
I’m thankful for my 3-month-old miracle baby who has taught me the persistence & fragility of life, inexhaustible love when everything else seems hopeless, and the comfort of prayer. I’m thankful for your optimism and for showing us that life’s path isn’t always about where we’re going, but how we handle the perils. Happy Thanksgiving!