This past year has taught me more about thankfulness than perhaps any other season of my life. Not the easy kind of gratitude — the one that flows naturally when everything’s going right — but the kind that aches in your chest and trembles through your prayers. The kind that whispers, “Thank You, God,” even when you can barely see the good in what’s unfolding.

There were nights I fell to my knees, crying out to God in desperation. My husband and my father — both sick with cancer — both fighting battles that doctors said they might not win. I remember gripping the edges of my Bible and weeping until there were no words left. And in that quiet, when I had nothing else to give, I heard Him.

Not in a loud, thundering voice.

Not in the way I expected.

But in a whisper that settled over my heart like a warm blanket on a cold night:

“Just trust Me.”

And so, I did.

One moment at a time.

One day at a time.

I began to notice things I had overlooked — the softness in my husband’s laugh, the glint in my father’s eyes when he told an old story, the comfort of a shared cup of coffee on a still morning. Little moments that once seemed small now felt sacred.

It’s strange how suffering opens your eyes.

How storms strip away the noise and leave you face to face with what really matters.

I learned to worship Him in the storm — not just after it passed.

To say, “Thank You, Lord, even here. Even now.”

Because gratitude, I’ve discovered, isn’t the denial of pain. It’s the defiance of despair.

When I choose to thank God in the middle of my heartache, I’m declaring that darkness doesn’t get the final word — He does.

And oh, how He’s moved.

In the quietest ways, and sometimes the most wondrous. In answered prayers I didn’t deserve. In moments of laughter I didn’t expect. In the miracle of still having them both with me today.

No, the storm isn’t over. But I’ve learned that peace isn’t the absence of it — peace is the presence of God within it.

And that, my friend, is grace.

So this Thanksgiving, I’m thankful for the ordinary — for the laughter that breaks through pain, for the hands I still get to hold, for the breath that fills my lungs and the faith that fills my heart.

Because the greatest blessings are often found not in the sunshine, but in the rain. 🌧️☀️

☕ If this reflection touched your heart…

I’d be honored if you helped me continue sharing stories that bring faith and hope to others walking through their own storms.

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