Nearly thirty-five years ago, I walked into Thanksgiving carrying a heaviness that seemed impossible to shake. I found myself sitting in my pastor’s office, words tumbling out, until I finally spoke the truth I’d tried to dodge: “I just don’t think I have much to be thankful for.”
My old car was at the center of my discouragement—but really, it was just a symptom of something deeper. The income I was scraping together from self-employment had our family living well below the poverty line.
That beat-up car, with its rattles and rust, felt like a daily reminder of my shortcomings. It wasn’t just about the embarrassment—it was the sting of not being able to provide what I wanted for my kids. Even basics like buying new jeans for them or making the grocery money stretch week by week seemed like steep hills to climb.
I started to explain all the reasons I was feeling so low, but I only got about one sentence out before the pastor interrupted me with five words I will never forget.
Now, wait just a minute.
With quiet compassion, he began to point out blessings I’d been overlooking—reminding me that even in tough times, grace and goodness were still tucked all around me.
As he spoke, I started to feel the full weight of my own ingratitude—along with a real sense of embarrassment and shame that came from my own stupidity. That pastor’s gentle rebuke changed me permanently.
Something changed for me that day. I left his office not with all my problems solved, but with my perspective realigned. I realized that if you spend your days only considering what you don’t have, then it’s no wonder your mind only sees the negative.
Even now, whenever those old feelings try to settle in, I stop and remind myself: “Now, wait just a minute.” I look again, and more often than not, I find kindness and provision threaded through the ordinary.
Gratitude, I’ve learned, isn’t always automatic—it’s something I have to choose.
On the days when I feel empty or worn out, I’m reminded to pause, be honest about my struggles, but also to count the blessings I might have missed. Sometimes it just takes a gentle interruption to see what’s been there all along, waiting for a thankful heart to notice.
If today you find yourself feeling like I did those many years ago, I humbly suggest you stop for a minute and consider the blessings you’ve been overlooking. You might be surprised by what you find.
Let all that I am praise the LORD; may I never forget the good things he does for me. (Psalm 103:2 NLT)
. . . and that’s what I know today.