WHAT IS YOUR RATIO OF THANKFULNESS & COMPLAINT?

Do We Know What We Have? A roof overhead. Food that arrives not with toil but with a turn of the tap or twist of the oven dial. Fresh water that is clean, cold, and constant. Feet to carry us, hands to build and hold. A mind that reasons. Laughter that breaks the silence like sunlight through clouds.

GRATITUDELOVE

M.P.

7/4/20252 min read

a wooden block spelling the word blessing next to a bouquet of blue flowers

We rarely see the weight of our blessings until their absence makes them visible. And we forget that the very things we take for granted, warmth, water, breath, bread, are miracles clothed in ordinariness.

A roof above us feels unremarkable until the rain finds its way in. We walk without thought, until pain reminds us of the quiet wonder of movement. We speak and hold and laugh and create, but how often do we rest and marvel at the gift of having hands, voices, minds?

We are rich in what matters and yet often poor in thanksgiving. There is a quiet imbalance in our hearts, a ratio that leans toward complaint even when life is full of grace.

Perhaps it’s not malice or pride, but forgetfulness, a drifting of attention. We see what we lack, but overlook what we already hold. Our eyes turn outward instead of upward. We measure ourselves against more, rather than resting in enough.

And when hardship comes, as it does, it doesn’t create discontent, it reveals it.

But Scripture draws our gaze higher.

"Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honourable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think on these things." (Philippians 4:8)

What we think, becomes what we feel. And what we dwell on becomes who we are.

The early Christians did not give thanks because life was easy. They gave thanks because grace had come near. Their joy was not tied to comfort, but to Christ. Paul wrote of contentment from a prison cell. Not the kind found in having all he wanted, but in discovering the sufficiency of the One who never fails.

Gratitude, in its truest form, is not the result of a perfect day or an ideal outcome. It is born from seeing rightly. It begins when we recognise the hand of God not only in abundance, but in the storm.

We do not need to wait for loss to see what we have and choose to notice now, train our hearts to remember.

To wake and say, “This breath is a gift.”
To eat and say, “This bread is grace.”
To live and say, “Thank You.”

Before it is taken.
Before it is gone.

Let gratitude be greater.