I’ve never been a big Thanksgiving guy. I find the meal to be bland, every element of it.
Turkey? Eh.
Gravy? Intestinal concrete.
Mashed potatoes. Paste.
Cranberry sauce is particularly morbid to me.
I find the celebration, and often the conversation, to be forced. And it feels weird to be preparing and dining on a massive meal on a Thursday afternoon in the middle of what would otherwise be a perfectly productive week.

Nothing about it is feels right.

This year, if we are doing it correctly, Thanksgiving is all-but-canceled in the name of safety.
Perfectly fine by me.

I’ve also personally experienced an uncanny amount of loss around this holiday (Duffy’s tend to die, with dramatic flair, when the weather turns, apparently), so the gratitude piece is often missing for me as well, replaced by an underlying, well-defended grief. For me, the gallows draw of Halloween suits this time of year more than thankfulness.
But something, perhaps everything, changed this year.

Gratitude often comes, I think, in these moments when we have everything to lose. And this year, it’s all been on the line: our health, our families, our emotional well-being, our careers, our financial stability, our way of life. It’s that foundation we take for granted that we feel grateful for when it is rocked.

And the rocking has been, and continues to be, downright seismic.
SO many people have been sick, or have died. And we know there is more to come as airline gates and ER’s fill to capacity, again.
We’ve lost semesters and seasons and milestone after milestone.
We’ve lost jobs, income, electoral sanity.

Hope, I am hearing from my clients young and old, is a rare, rare commodity.

Most of us are understandably frightened about something.
Yet here I sit, a hardened cynic on the eve of Thanksgiving, and I feel a deep, optimistic, hopeful well of gratitude.
I’m grateful for this gloomy-ass day.
I’m grateful for my family, the laughter and the joy and the endless possibilities.
I’m grateful for, and more aware of, my friendships than I ever have been before.
I’m grateful to my clients for providing me purpose through a time when I would otherwise certainly be terribly anxious.
I’m grateful for my job and my home.

I’m grateful, quite literally, for each breath I take, that I’m allowed it, another moment of this miraculous life.
I know, I know. Too much. Over the top. But it’s also TRUE.

So, here we all are, hunkering down once again in a different world than we inhabited a year ago. Then, everything was reasonably fine (kinda), and I felt nothing in the way of gratitude. I was going through the motions, day after dreaded day. Today, we have a re-emerging pandemic, ongoing political strife, economic instability, and more disconnection. Seems counterintuitive to feel anything close to grateful.

But give it a minute. Consider your life, as it is right now. Right this moment.
Try to put your cynicism and disappointment and self-loathing and fear to rest with a few deep breaths. And consider a few elements of your world you are grateful for.
Can you breathe?
Can you see?
Can you sing?
Is someone glad you’re here, that you exist in the world?
Can you bring a smile to someone’s face?
Can you make someone laugh?
Can you ease someone’s loneliness?

Without a doubt, we benefit from gratitude in countless ways. But gratitude runs parallel to generosity. We feel grateful when we help, when we serve. And today, this non-cynical me, really loves that.
I hope it lasts.
In the meantime, thank you.