Some mornings, gratitude shows up like a loyal old dog—stretching, yawning, and ambling right up to meet us before the coffee even finishes perking. Other mornings, gratitude needs to be coaxed out from under the porch with a biscuit.
Thanksgiving has a way of reminding us that the good things in life aren’t usually loud. They don’t shout over the noise. They don’t wave their arms from the mountaintops. More often than not, they hum quietly in the background—steady, faithful, easy to overlook when we’re racing through the day.
Scripture has a simple way of saying things that we tend to complicate:
“Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good; His steadfast love endures forever.”
— Psalm 107:1
There’s no footnote.
No seasonal caveat.
No “give thanks when everything works out” clause.
Just give thanks…
Because He is good.
Because His love doesn’t run out.
It’s that steady steadfast love that meets us in the ordinary:
• In the familiar creak of a well-worn floorboard.
• In the smell of something warm in the oven.
• In the laughter that bubbles up around a table—even if the chairs don’t match.
• In the quiet moments when God reminds us, “I’m here. I’ve always been here.”
Thanksgiving isn’t a day about perfection.
If anything, it’s a day that celebrates the beauty of the imperfect.
The burnt edges.
The mismatched casseroles.
The stories that get bigger every year.
The grace that shows up in the middle of it all.
But beneath the food, the family, the traditions, there is a truth worth pausing to savor:
Gratitude is not a feeling.
It’s a posture.
It's a way of seeing.
It's a way of remembering that every good and perfect gift comes from above.
So today, before the football starts, before the turkey is carved, before the sink fills with dishes, take a moment. A slow one. The kind of moment that doesn’t fit in your calendar but always fits in your soul.
Let your heart whisper, or shout, or mumble if it needs to:
“Thank You, Lord.”
Thank You for the mountains—the big victories, the answered prayers, the unexpected blessings.
Thank You for the valleys—the places where You walked beside us even when we couldn’t see our own way.
Thank You for the everyday—where most of Your mercies quietly live.
And thank You for being good.
Not just today.
Not just when life behaves.
But always.
May your Thanksgiving be filled with warmth, laughter, grace, and a whole lot of little reminders that God is bigger than anything we may face and better to us than we deserve.
And may gratitude curl up at your feet like an old lazy dog—content, faithful, and glad to be home.
Keep the Faith… Carpe Diem
