I read and hear a great deal about the practice of Gratitude in my living and working these days, and I am glad for that. Brene Brown asserts that gratitude is the gateway to Joy. Surely Joy is greatly to be desired in these shaky days that we are living! But sometimes it feels like a reach…to be either thankful or joyful!

I confess that early on in my life, I had great resistance to pursuing either one of those practices–being thankful, taking the joy! In my milieu it felt like those behaviors contributed to what we are now labeling “toxic positivity,” a la Pollyanna and her Glad Game. I see now that I refused to be grateful, joyful, when it meant denial of the pain and grief I was experiencing, pretending I believed it would all get better in the sweet by-and-by. I wanted to take my suffering seriously, not smooth it over with maxims and “futuring” blithely. It has taken time for me to realize deep in myself that Joy and Gratitude can and do co-exist with the suffering and grief in the life of the world, my world, and that the naming and sensing each of the one does not deny or erase the other.

It was freedom then when I learned that I could honor all my painful feelings of sorrow and loss, resentment and anger, fear and dread, yet still with integrity “count my blessings,” naming them one by one. And thus I became an active practitioner of keeping a gratitude journal, daily, the contents of which range from extraordinary gifts of largesse in the world, such as sunsets and ocean billows, to tiny turns of the day–a word, a gesture, a discovery, an amusement, things that bring Light, were I to notice them. That practice has not only made me more grateful all around; it has made me more attentive, more observant, more conscious.

My attention is drawn this season to the way I express that gratitude. I appreciate a generic thanks: thank you for being you, thanks for all you do, thanks for the contribution. However, I love even more the thanks that are particular, specific and discrete.

Recently I received a message that a connection I made 20 years ago or more, one which I no longer remember, made a significant difference to a mother of a baby when she was in distress. I was given a compliment on the way I carried myself, despite my walking stick, which pleased me no end. I was thanked for a small expression of presence, in an ordinary time. It prodded me to pay more particular attention to the small, discrete, but possibly extraordinary things that I am given to receive and to do each day: a cup of coffee in the flavor I like, a refill of my water glass, a postcard out of the blue, the news of a conflict resolution for which I have been praying. Furthermore, I am challenged to make my own thank yous more individual. more granular.

So this Thanksgiving season these are the things for which I am giving thanks:

• for my neighbor who regularly plies me with interesting fact and reviews of the artistic happenings, served with a glass of wine.
• for my long time friend who remembers serious and funny occurrences from our teen years that have slipped out of my memory.
• for pastors who know my name and honor my ministries of the past.
• for social media friends who enjoy my posts, invite my prayers, and widen my world.
• for former students whose growing and thriving I am allowed to witness and celebrate.
• for grandchildren who are in touch with me by text or Instagram almost every week–one with hearts. one with sweet words, one with funny memes, one with puns.
• for children who pay attention to things I might like to see or have.
• for a husband of many decades who still like to plan, anticipate and actualize larks that we can take, even when the circumference and duration are shortening

It is no accident , I think, that the Psalms are so full of details–musical instruments, seasonal beauty, historical memory, details of daily life. James tell us that “Every good gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is not variation or shadow of turning.” I am grateful for that perspective–for all things, great and small…in particular.