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As I walked in the house with my groceries, I snarled at my husband, “We live in a culture of complaint!” But the irony of complaining to my husband about people being crabby was not not lost on me. I decided it was time to jumpstart a habit that had fallen out of use in my daily life - it was time to start writing gratitude lists again each night.
The notebook and pen I had used for this purpose in the past were still in the top drawer of the nightstand next to the bed. My former format had been to list five things I was grateful for before going to sleep. I picked up right where I had left off - listed five things, turned off the light, snuggled under the covers - but I did not fall asleep. I suddenly occurred to me that all the things I had listed pointed to my privileged status. I was thankful for the insurance that covered some recent medical expenses, for the education I had received that allowed me to teach, for a friend starting a exciting, new job. It struck me as a bit odd to thank God for such comforts - comforts others did not have.
The next night I decided to consider some of the aspects of my life for which I did not feel grateful - my stubborn character defects, my mother’s aging, the violence in our country, the significant differences in the ways Christians interpreted the Bible. Could I be thankful for those realities? I sat with that question for some time while a gentle rain fell right outside the window behind me, softening the ground. What I eventually felt was not exactly gratitude, but a sense of God’s presence even in those aspects of life. Grace was gently softening the ground of my heart.
As a spring of appreciation for that Presence gurgled within me, I began to write in my notebook: I am grateful for the two crabby people at Kroger who prompted me to get back to making gratitude lists again.