Rediscovering Gratitude

Rediscovering Gratitude: Why Thanksgiving Still Holds My Heart

Thanksgiving has always been my absolute favorite holiday. There's something magical about it—no frantic gift-wrapping, no pressure to outdo last year's decorations, just pure, unadulterated time with the people who matter most. Growing up, our family gatherings were filled with laughter echoing through the kitchen, the aroma of roasting turkey mingling with sweet pies, and stories that seemed to stretch on forever. But life has a way of shifting those joyful traditions, doesn't it? My grandma Doris passed away 25 years ago, and though a quarter-century has slipped by, the holiday has never quite felt the same. The empty chair at the table, the missing sound of her laugh—it’s a quiet ache that lingers, even now. If you've ever lost someone close during the holidays, you know that kind of loss doesn’t fade with time; it just settles into the background, coloring every tradition with both sweetness and sorrow.

Yet, even after all these years, I’ve found ways to hold onto the warmth of those memories. I still cherish being with family, soaking in each other’s company without the distractions of everyday life. We pile our plates high with favorites: creamy mashed potatoes, green bean casserole that’s somehow both crispy and comforting, and of course, my grandma’s famous stuffing. Every November, I pull out her recipe and recreate it step by step. Chopping the celery and onions, folding in the sage and breadcrumbs, it’s like she’s right there beside me, guiding my hands with that gentle patience I can still feel. That simple act turns cooking into a sacred ritual of remembrance, a quiet way to keep her spirit alive at the table. Maybe you have a tradition like that in your family too—one that bridges the years and makes the holiday feel a little more whole, even when someone dear is gone.

And let’s talk about thankfulness itself—it’s not just a holiday sentiment; it’s genuinely good for our health. Research shows that practicing gratitude can lower stress, improve sleep, and even strengthen our immune systems. In a world that often feels chaotic and overwhelming, pausing to count our blessings rewires our brains to focus on abundance instead of absence. It’s like a mental reset button that works, no matter how many years have passed since your heart was broken. As I reflect on this, I’m drawn to the timeless words of Psalm 118:24: "This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it." That verse carries extra weight when you’ve been carrying grief for decades—it’s a gentle invitation to embrace the present, to find joy not in spite of loss, but alongside it.

What about you? What are you thankful for this year? Maybe it’s the health of a loved one, a job that brings purpose, or something as simple as a quiet morning with a warm cup of coffee. Sharing these things—out loud or on paper—can make us feel more connected, less alone in our stories. If you’re looking for a practical way to cultivate gratitude, try keeping a thankful journal. It’s simpler than it sounds: just write down 3–5 things each day that spark joy or peace. It could be “the way my kids greet me at the door” or “a kind text from an old friend.” I’ve been doing it for years now, and on the harder days—especially around the holidays—flipping back through those pages reminds me of the quiet miracles I might otherwise overlook. It doesn’t erase the missing piece, but it helps me see the beauty still left in the picture.

I’m also reminded of Psalm 136, a song of steadfast love that repeats the refrain "His love endures forever" after every line. Consider these opening verses: "Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good. His love endures forever." (Psalm 136:1) "Give thanks to the God of gods. His love endures forever." (Psalm 136:2) "Give thanks to the Lord of lords. His love endures forever." (Psalm 136:3)

That repetition isn’t just poetic—it’s a lifeline. It declares that God’s faithfulness outlasts our pain, our seasons of change, even 25 years of missing someone at the table. Gratitude, then, isn’t about pretending everything is perfect; it’s about anchoring ourselves in a love that never fades, no matter how long ago the loss occurred.

So as we gather this Thanksgiving—some of us with full tables, others with hearts that still feel the empty space—let’s lean into the moments that matter. Let’s savor the flavors that connect us to our past, share stories that keep loved ones alive in memory, and practice thankfulness not as a fleeting feeling, but as a daily discipline. It won’t bring back who we’ve lost, but it can illuminate the grace that’s carried us this far.

Here’s to a Thanksgiving rich with connection, remembrance, and renewed hope—may it encourage your heart as deeply as it continues to encourage mine, even after all these years.

Always Thankful, Anna