Kari's Blog

Hi Everyone! It’s been a long while since I’ve written anything here, and there has been good reason for it. I won’t get into all of that now, but I did want to share some of the reflections that have been on my heart lately.

To that end, though I haven’t read it yet, the title of a book by Sally Rooney recently caught my eye: Beautiful World, Where Are You? by Sally Rooney. It’s a question I’ve been wondering a lot myself lately, for a variety of reasons.

On a micro level, there is much I am grateful for, and I find it helpful (and necessary) to make it a regular practice to give thanks and take notice of the good in my life. I love hearing the birds chirp and seeing flowers bloom this time of year. I’m grateful for my husband’s patience and support, that I have a dishwasher, and can do laundry at home. I’m thankful for a good night’s sleep when I get it and that my kids are healthy and safe. I’m mindful that there are many people who do not have these same experiences.

Yet there have been plenty of days in the past several months when I have felt discouraged and saddened as I’ve looked at the world around me. I’ve found myself worrying about the world our kids will live in if we don’t start taking care of creation more intentionally. I’ve been grieving various transitions and the numerous layers and emotions involved with them.

But most of all, I think, I have struggled with the ways that hatred, rudeness, disrespect, and insensitivity have become acceptable—and at times even applauded—in our public discourse and interactions with people near and far. To me, it is unacceptable and it seems we could do so much better.

In college, my student teaching assignment was in a tenth grade American History classroom. Over the years, I have also read many historical fiction books set in the time of slavery, World War I, and World War II. So I realize that there has hardly been a time in our nation’s, much less the world’s history, when all has been well.

Even still, it’s difficult for me to wrap my mind around the horrific ways people were treated during these times, the way power was misused and abused, and the way certain groups of people were dehumanized. It’s difficult for me to think that anyone could look back on these times and not be appalled. Yet the truth is that these sorts of things are still happening today, and that is the thing I have been struggling to make sense of most.

To some extent, I tell myself I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve long known people can be unkind, even cruel to one another, often due to an underlying sense of insecurity or greed or a desire to assert more power for oneself. My earliest memory of this realization was in fifth grade, when someone I considered a close friend used her powers of influence and popularity to convince the other kids in our class to not play with me at recess. It was a confusing and humiliating time, and to get through the year, I spent most of my lunch hours in my classroom, putting up bulletin boards for my teacher.

Thankfully, the year passed and I got through it. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the last time I succumbed to a desire to be liked and embraced by those who seemed to have more confidence and physical beauty than I had. I regret the amount of time I put into relationships that were not mutually edifying.

Thankfully though, I did learn from these experiences. In particular, I learned to not shake off my intuition when I sensed someone was using their charms to get their own way or was putting self before others or appeared one way on the surface but lacked a sense of authenticity deeper down.

One of the things I have come to mourn as an adult is that adults treat others in ways that we teach our kids in school not to. In fact, I often think what a different world it would be if we adults followed the same code of conduct that our schools instill in our kids: Respect, Honesty, Kindness, Responsibility and Fairness. They don’t always get it right, but it’s important to name these values as common ground.

Of course, I know we’re all human, which means that we all fail at times, both in what we do and what we don’t do. Nonetheless, I’ve always had a certain optimism that the common good would win out. These days, I’ve been less sure. Which is what makes me question, Beautiful world, where are you?

In order to not lose hope in these times, I try to remember to take some deep breaths; to consider another person’s point of view and look for the common ground, even when it’s hard to do so; to focus on spreading love and kindness, and, as a friend of mine put it, to chose to believe there is good in the world.

I know that those who view the world differently than I do care about the future of our world and the vitality of our community, but that their definitions of what that looks like are different than mine. I know they have reasons for what they believe is right and worthy of our investment. Yet whenever those views are blinded by privilege or a desire to maintain power or rudeness, that is when I have a hard time appreciating and accepting those views.

Whenever a certain opinion or position results in some other group being made to feel less by others, I can’t help but wonder where the Greatest Commandment fits in. “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself” (Matthew 22:37). Or the words from the prophet Micah, “What does the Lord require of you, but to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with your God” (6:8).

As I’ve tried to grapple with things, as well as to keep even my own opinions in check, I’ve started to ask myself: What is the fruit of a particular viewpoint? Who is benefiting from it? Is what I am doing and saying helping to expand other’s view of the world, themselves, and God’s love? Am I adding love to the world or diminishing it?

It’s also why I often find myself praying for leaders who put service before self, who are committed to listening more than they value hearing themselves speak, who identify areas of growth and seek clarification not to tear things apart but in order to make things better. I am grateful for the leaders in our community and beyond who are already doing this, and I pray for more and more of them as we continue to shape our shared future.

It’s not easy, doing this work. But I’ve found it essential in order to not lose hope. And what I keep being reminded of as I do, is the truth that though it is often hard to see, beauty and good and kindness are still present. Compassion, empathy, and integrity are not lost. There is still good in the world.

Lately I’ve seen glimpses of the world I long for in the way my son’s soccer teammates related to one another; in the uninhibited joy of my kids when they do something that makes their heart sing and the enthusiasm with which our dogs greet neighbors and friends; in the camp counselors who welcomed my oldest to camp and shared the boundless love of Jesus with her throughout the week; in the questions of a five-year old as he explored his grandfather’s garden and his slow smile when he tasted a rootbeer float for the first time; in the continued work of the staff and volunteers of various community organizations focused on making sure all people have access to safe and affordable housing, food security, and gainful employment.

For all these reasons, though I’ve long since let go of wondering, why can’t we all get along? I will not give up searching for what is good, right, and beautiful, and I hope that you too will join me in seeking, taking notice of, and giving thanks for it.

This July, I’ve been thinking of many of the songs that I learned in school and have associated with the Fourth of July for a long time. Songs like America the Beautiful and Battle Hymn of the Republic… God Bless America, others like This is My Country and Sousa’s Stars and Stripes Forever.

In thinking of some of these songs and their celebratory nature, I was reminded of a psalm I preached on earlier this summer. Psalm 150 is a celebration of all that God has done and yet the psalmist doesn’t tell us why to praise God, or for what, but rather how to praise God– and the answer according to the psalmist is with everything we’ve got.

This psalms caps off the entire book of psalms, throughout which there is much lament and sorrow. To me, it’s so important that these words are included in the book of psalms, if for no other reason to remind those of us who grew up in the American culture– which prizes optimism and positivity– that God is with us in the depths and that there is nothing we can’t say to God.

But the book of psalms also reminds us that though lament is a part of our life of faith, it is not the whole story. And often, praise bursts out in the middle of a lament psalm, and reminding us that it is all part of our life of faith. Even still, at the very last, the final word will be one of praise and celebration.

This reality brings me back to summer celebrations and especially those that are centered around love for our country. The way I look at it, there are many hallelujahs that we can say…for our freedoms, for those who have served to protect us, and for the many privileges we have as citizens of the United States.

However, even as we celebrate our country, it’s important to remember that while there are many wonderful things about our country, for all too many, the ideals of our nation are still yet to become a reality. Yes, there’s a lot we have to celebrate, but there is also more work for us to do.

That’s why, it’s important to remember that our true freedom comes in and through Christ. As Jesus says in the Gospel of John, “If the Son– Jesus– has set you free, you are free indeed” (John 8:36). This reality often brings me back to the Lutheran teaching that explains how, as followers of Christ, we are both saint and sinner. Simultaneously. Always. That’s the reason we confess our sins each time we worship together, because we know we are forgiven and that God loves us as we are, but we are still human.

Which means that none of us is perfect nor knows everything; we each have something to give but also something to learn. And since that is the case with us as individuals, it is also the case with the systems of which we are a part– our communities, our families, our world.

This is one of the reasons one of the patriotic songs I like best is titled, This Is My Song. In the verses, Lloyd Stone acknowledges love for his own country, but he also balances that with the love that others feel around the world for their nations. I appreciate the way this song captures the gratitude and pride we can feel for our country while also acknowledging that there is beauty and gifts in other countries as well and that being patriotic isn’t mutually exclusive of respecting, honoring, and finding the good in other places as well.

It’s a question that has been asked a lot this past year: When will we get back to normal? It’s an understandable question, and one that’s been asked in a variety of circumstances and places, by people old and young, and more times than any of us have been able to keep track of.

Yet as more than one person has voiced over the last many months, there is actually no way to go back to exactly the way things were before COVID-19 became a reality in our lives.

Granted, some things have returned to some semblance of normal, and for many of those we are grateful. But there are other things that can’t––or shouldn’t––just go back to the way things were. That’s because in the past fifteen months, we have all changed. We have experienced things both good and bad. We have seen the best and, in some cases, the worst in one another. Not only that, certain things that aren’t working anymore have been brought into the light––both in our personal lives but also in how we relate to one another as fellow humans.

So maybe the better question to ask ourselves is: Lord, what do you have for us now, in this new time and season? What does this new future look like?

I once heard a young man named Josh Sundquist speak at an event, and this was a question that he had to ask early on in his life. At the age of nine, he was diagnosed with a rare form of bone cancer and given a fifty percent chance to live. After spending a year on chemo, his left leg was amputated.

When this happened, Josh and his parents had to reconsider what they had imagined his future to look like. There’s no doubt there are lots of options available to amputees, but as Josh was growing up, having him lose a leg was likely not something anyone had considered. So when he did, they had to imagine a new way of doing things. They also had to choose how they would look at this experience and how they would let it define Josh’s life.

Would they go forward, always looking over their shoulder in regret for what was and might have been? Or would they go forward with a certain degree of optimism and determination to make the best of the hand they had been dealt?

Three years after the doctors declared him cured of the disease that took his leg, Josh started ski racing, eventually earning a spot on the U.S. Paralympic Ski Team for the 2006 Paralympics in Turino, Italy. Today, Josh represents the United States in international competition as a member of the U.S. Amputee Soccer Team. He is also a comedian, motivational speaker, author, and Halloween enthusiast.

There’s no doubt that Josh’s determination, sense of humor and exuberant personality has a lot to do with him becoming so successful today. But after his surgery, the option for him and his family to go back to normal was taken off the table.

In fact, if they would have tried to do that, it would not have been helpful or productive for anyone. As I listened to Josh’s story, it struck me that his ability to move forward with optimism was because he and his family were willing to consider what else was possible, and how they could help Josh blossom in this new season in his life.

Though many of us may not lose a limb, the reality is that things do and will happen in each of our lives that change us and shape us in ways that we did not ask for and might not like. We don’t always get a warning that they are coming, and they can feel like an incredible blow when they do.

But after giving ourselves time to grieve and––maybe even having a funeral for our expectations––we do get to choose how we will greet the new dawn, so to speak. There’s no doubt that the pandemic pushed us to do that in ways that many of us were not seeking out. We had to find new ways of doing things and, if we wanted any sense of peace of mind, accept what was.

Yet pandemic or not, the option of going back to everything just as it was before the pandemic is not truly an option. And it would even be wise to not expect that things will simply go back to the way they were.

Because the thing is, though God is steadfast and faithful, God is not only God of the past but also God of the future. And that’s a promise we can each cling to. So again, what will we do now? What do we need to let go of? What might God be preparing us for?

As we consider these questions, it can be helpful to remember that we are not left to our own devices to figure it out. And it is also helpful to remember that as uncomfortable as these sorts of conversations are for many of us, they are ones with which God is extremely comfortable.

After all, God is in the business of death and resurrection. That is what God does. So as followers of Christ, we can expect that we will experience death and resurrection in our lives too, both individually and as a people.

In his teaching on baptism, Luther referred to this as a daily dying and rising in Christ, through which we are freed to live without guilt or fear or worrying if we are worthy.
Yet at times, there are behaviors, practices, thoughts, and attitudes that need to be laid to rest. And sometimes things happen that cause a dream or desire of ours to die as well. When that is the case, we don’t always know what resurrection will look like in that area or when it will come.

However, as I once heard someone put it, “When your dreams turn to dust, it might be time to vacuum.” And as people of faith–– followers of Christ––of this we can be sure: that the same God who began a good work in you will bring it to the day of completion” (Phil 1:6).

There’s a lake near our house where many types of waterfowl gather in the summer.  In the winter, there’s an area of water that remains open, and the ducks huddle around this open water in order to survive.  This time of year, although we are on the brink of spring, the ice has not yet melted, so the geese and ducks still linger near that spot.

This image is one I often go back to when I find myself having had too little time to breathe and be still, too frequently.  The ducks are a picture for me of what it looks like to stay centered in the midst of unbalance and to take time to be filled up with the life-giving water of Jesus, in the midst of life’s challenges and responsibilities, knowing that my livelihood depends on it.  

I’d be the first one to encourage others to take this time, yet I also know that it rarely comes without having to say “no” to something.  These days, those things to say no to are usually good in and of themselves, but as difficult as it may seem to find and take time to tend to our heart, it is crucial that we do.

I’ve said before that seasons ebb and flow, and phases come and go, but there will always be multiple demands and responsibilities to juggle and finding the perfect work-life balance is a bit like trying to outsmart the process of aging: the target is always moving.  So, for me, the question has shifted from, “When or how will I find the right balance?” to, “What do I need in order to stay centered?”

For me, one of the necessities is time for quiet, when my creative juices can flow without being forced, when my schedule doesn’t feel like stuffing sausage into casing.  There are times when these moments are few and far between, and when what is going into my bucket doesn’t match what is going out.  In those times, we have to do what we have to do.  

But as our patience and compassion for others and sense of calm starts to wane, the invitation is to pause at the river of God’s love in order to be filled to the measure with the fullness of God (Eph 3:19).  As you do, perhaps you will think about the ducks, and how staying near the water isn’t only for when they have nothing else to do but rather a life-giving necessity.

I saw a bumper sticker recently that read, “I hope something good happens to you today.”  I’m not much of a bumper sticker sort of person, but if I had the chance to purchase this one, I think I might just stick it on the back of my vehicle.

This simple wish of well-being isn’t fancy, but it is a refreshing change from a lot of the noise that fills our days.  Rather than wishing others well, in many ways our society has gotten pretty used to criticizing, complaining, and attacking others.  On top of that, we are constantly fed a message that there isn’t enough to go around, so we better hold on tightly to what we have so that no one else gets it.

The bumper sticker reading, “I hope something good happens to you today,” reminds me of something I once heard in a meditation and breathing exercise.  During the meditation, listeners were invited to extend kindness to themselves, using simple words like, “May I be happy; may I be safe and free from suffering.” 

Then listeners were invited to imagine extending this sort of blessing to others as well.  The leader started by asking us to picture someone we cared for deeply, then to bring to mind someone we had indifferent feelings about, and finally, someone who had caused us a great deal of pain.

Of course, it was a lot easier to offer words of blessing and well-being to those we thought fondly of and enjoyed spending time with; it was less natural to extend it to those we didn’t like.  Still, the invitation was to put our feelings for a particular person aside and to wish them well, simply because they were a fellow human being.  Could we recognize that each person longs to be happy, just like us?  Could we wish them well rather than harbor resentment or ill-will? 

In our world today, with so many things coming our way to try to pit individuals against one another and in which we are fed images and advertisements that are made to make us feel inadequate and insecure, it’s pretty easy to fall into the comparison game, which can easily lead to being judgmental and untrusting of others.   

However, what I’ve found is that when I am able to say something in my mind of someone else, such as, “May they be happy…may they be at peace,” or, like the bumper sticker read, “I hope something good happens to you today,” I feel a whole lot better about a lot of things.  And it’s also a whole lot easier to experience the peace of God that Jesus promises and desires for all of us.

Poet e.e. cummings once wrote a poem titled “i thank You God for most this amazing day” which reflects on the beauty and wonder of God while also including all sorts of seemingly ordinary things for which he is thankful. 

Ever since I first came across this poem, every so often, I hear its words in my head.  I thank you God for most this amazing day.  I’ve written before how important I think gratitude is, and what a difference it can make in our outlook on life and in our relationships with others.

But it’s something I have to keep coming back to, because recently and not so recently, it can be pretty easy to get swept up in thoughts about what isn’t working or what I’d like to change.

When that is the case for me, I have to nudge (and sometimes pull) myself to focus on what is good, right, and beautiful in the world.  To start my day with thanks for all that God is, has, and is doing in my life, and to take notice of all the things I have to be grateful for…my husband and kids, our dogs, a hot cup of (not too strong) coffee…

For baby steps towards tackling a challenge, for when I don’t forget something on the calendar and for grace when I do, for the people who are light-bearers in my life and who help me recognize the good rather than point out the negative.  

When it comes to the power of gratitude in our lives, many studies have proven the difference it can make.  But one of the biggest impacts I think it can make is in helping us stay centered in the midst of everything else going on in our lives and the world around us.  It can also make a big difference in how we relate to others.

Although gratitude surely won’t solve all the challenges we face today or every hardship you are facing in your own life, I believe our lives are profoundly improved when we take the time and make the effort to give thanks and to recognize God’s promise and presence in our lives, seeing us through all that comes our way, both big and small. 

When we make the effort to find something to be grateful for, to express our gratitude, or to simply say a prayer of thanks in the quiet of our hearts, it helps us feel a greater sense of peace in who we are, as well as a greater sense of connection to our fellow human beings. 

And the thing is, when we feel at peace with who we are and a sense of connection to others, it makes us more able to listen to them rather than critique or defend, and it helps us be able to give them the benefit of the doubt rather than jump to conclusions.  When we are able to do those things, I think we are also better able to see that there is good in the world, and in us.

I once read an article written by a mom whose two boys got caught in a rip tide.  When she saw her boys struggling, her gut reaction was to run in after the boys to try and save them, even though she knew that was exactly what she wasn’t supposed to do.  

The mother and her boys were rescued in large part because of a couple who happened to be at the beach that day as well.  When this husband and wife saw the commotion in the distance, they ran over to survey the scene and could tell that the family was drowning.  But they could also see that there was no way to get to them without also putting themselves in danger.

That’s when they yelled to others on shore to make a human chain until they could reach far enough out into the water to reach the struggling swimmers.  What started with six people volunteering to help quickly became ten, and then pretty soon there were fifty people who had joined the chain.  

In a matter of minutes, they stretched out from shortest to tallest.  The wife, who was an expert swimmer, ran to the front of the line with two bodyboards and forged her way to the two kids, who were fifteen feet away from the front of the line.  Then, one by one, the chain pulled each boy and then the adults from person to person until all those who had been stuck in the rip tide were safely back on shore.  

When I read this article, as a mom, I could understand how the mother of the two boys must have felt when she saw them struggling in the water.  Like her, I would have done anything to try to save my own kids.  I reflected on how emotionally and physically taxing an experience like this would be for all those involved. 

This story got me thinking about caregiving. Although it can certainly be rewarding when you know you are making a difference in someone else’s life, and although many of the situations that we face as parents and caregivers are thankfully not quite as intense, caring for others can be exhausting.  And these days, extra stressors and limitations can make that all the more true.   

However, although caring for others does involve the risk of getting hurt, experiencing heartache, and feeling worn out, the alternative would mean turning our back on Christ’s call to love, and missing out on experiencing the love and support of people we’ve grown close to over the years.  

When we give ourselves permission to take the time we need for self-care––and then guard that time to the best of our ability––it can make all the difference in being able to do the work God has called us to do.  Whether it be exercise, some quiet time, journaling, or getting a massage, our love for others is almost always healthier when we are able to practice love toward ourselves.

And when that is the case, we are more likely to be reminded that just as we wouldn’t hesitate to join in a human chain to save someone else from drowning, numerous people are more than willing to do the same for us.  Trusting that human chain makes it possible for us to look with compassion on those we are called to care for, near and far, clasp hands, and do whatever we can to help.  

When I was a counselor at Flathead Lutheran in Kalispell, MT, I learned a song that went like this: 

I will change your name / You shall no longer be called / Wounded, outcast / Lonely or afraid / I will change your name / Your new name shall be / Confidence, joyfulness / Overcoming one / Faithfulness, friend of God / One who seeks my face. 

Flathead Lutheran Bible Camp songbook

The creation story in Genesis tells us that God looked at what God had created and said, “It is good.”  The Bible tells us that we were created for God’s pleasure (Rev 4:11).  That means God delights in us, which means that we don’t have to wonder if God cares for us, or if God is listening to our prayers, or about doing enough to please God.  It’s quite the opposite, actually– there is nothing God likes more than to be with us and hear from us.  Just looking at my garden in the growing months fills my heart with joy; that’s how God feels when God looks at us and when we lean on God.

At times, this truth can be hard for us to believe.  We know ourselves well, and, as someone I know once said, “We carry our faults, failures, and insecurities like a snail carries its shell.”  But because of the cross, we can be certain that nothing will change how much God loves us and delights in us.  In fact, through our adoption as God’s children, when God looks at us, God sees nothing less than what God sees when God looks at Jesus.

It’s like when my kids were in preschool and their class would sing a couple songs for the parents.  When the kids lined up to sing, I smiled as I watched them crane their necks to try and spot their parent or grandparent.  They were thrilled to have us there and soaked up the attention.  As I watched, I thought that they wouldn’t have had to sing a single song and we would still be crazy about them.  

If you are a loving parent, you know exactly what I mean.  We love our children so much that sometimes it hurts, simply because they are our children.  This is something I tell parents when they come to have their child baptized, and then I tell them that that’s how God feels about each of us.  There is nothing we have to do to earn God’s love; God loves us simply because we are.  It gives me goosebumps every time.

We often try to make it more complicated than that, and, certainly, there are ways that God desires us to live in order that we might be whole, have meaningful relationships, and enjoy a safe and healthy life.  But even though that is the case, God’s love for us is never contingent on us getting or doing things right.  Just as a loving parent looks forward to holding their child and looks on them with adoration, that’s how God feels about us.  As it says in Isaiah 43, “I have called you by name, you are mine.”

I drove to interview at my first call congregation during an April snowstorm.  About thirty miles from the church, my wheels hit some ice on the road and my car jack-knifed from one side of the road to the other. Somehow my car didn’t go in the ditch, and though I was a few minutes late to my interview, I was just glad to make it there in one piece.  

If I were someone on the lookout for signs from God, I might have rationalized that the fact that I made it to this interview safely meant that this was the place where God wanted me to be.  Or, because some pretty hairy things happened shortly after I started, I might have wondered if that nerve-wracking experience on the road was God saying, “Look out!”  

As it is, I’m pretty hesitant to say for certain what God might be doing in a particular situation.  That’s not to say that God doesn’t give us signs, or to deny that it works for some people to ask God for a sign to affirm something they are supposed to do. It’s just that for me, looking for signs isn’t my go-to way of seeking God’s guidance. 

Perhaps this is because I tend to think things through from every angle.  At times this can be helpful, but at others it can be exhausting.  That’s why, instead of looking for signs to confirm what God wants me to do in life, what I try to focus on instead is cultivating a sense of trust as well as appreciation for where I am and what I have. 

To that end, I’ve come to accept that there are certain things we may never know, this side of heaven.  We live in a broken world, and because of that brokenness, pain, disease, violence, and other horrible things happen.  This isn’t the way God wants the world to be, but it’s our reality nonetheless.  And I can’t help but think that most of the time, it’s best not to know when a curveball is coming our way.  

Because the thing is, if we knew a challenge was coming and made a decision to avoid it, we would also miss out on the joy and blessings that might be found along the way.  For example, if we had known how much trouble we would have going through the immigration process, would Thomas and I still have pursued a relationship?  Or if I had known how difficult Esme’s birth would be, would I still have wanted to get pregnant?  What I do know is that I would never want to trade having either of them in my life, no matter what.

My high school tennis coach used to remind us to take things one point, one game, one set, one match at a time.  Especially in matches when there was a lot on the line and every point mattered, these words became a sort of mantra.  It was her way of reminding us to not get ahead of ourselves or too flustered by a missed point.  To this day, I can still hear the echo of Solie’s advice in my ears, and this wisdom extends far beyond the tennis court.  

Yes, there are many times when I’d love to know where God is leading our family, or what might happen a few months or years down the road.  But when I am able to take a deep breath and take one step at a time, it is much easier for me to recognize all the good things in my life right now.  

Not only that, making the effort to notice these things and give thanks for them then helps me feel a sense of peace.  And when I feel at ease, no matter what questions remain unanswered, it makes it much easier to trust God’s promise that whatever happens, everything is going to be okay.

Poet e.e. cummings once wrote a poem titled “i thank You God for most this amazing day” which reflects on the beauty and wonder of God while also including all sorts of seemingly ordinary things for which he is thankful.  

Ever since I first came across this poem, every so often, I hear its words in my head.  I thank you God for most this amazing day.  I’ve written before how important I think gratitude is, and what a difference it can make in our outlook on life and in our relationships with others.

But it’s something I have to keep coming back to, because recently and not so recently, it can be pretty easy to get swept up in thoughts about what isn’t working or what I’d like to change. 

When that is the case for me, I have to nudge (and sometimes pull) myself to focus on what is good, right, and beautiful in the world.  To start my day with thanks for all that God is, has, and is doing in my life, and to take notice of all the things I have to be grateful for…my husband and kids, our dogs, a hot cup of (not too strong) coffee… 

For baby steps towards tackling a challenge, for when I don’t forget something on the calendar and for grace when I do, for the people who are light-bearers in my life and who help me recognize the good rather than point out the negative.   

When it comes to the power of gratitude in our lives, many studies have proven the difference it can make.  But one of the biggest impacts I think it can make is in helping us stay centered in the midst of everything else going on in our lives and the world around us.  It can also make a big difference in how we relate to others.

Although gratitude surely won’t solve all the challenges we face today or every hardship you are facing in your own life, I believe our lives are profoundly improved when we take the time and make the effort to give thanks and to recognize God’s promise and presence in our lives, seeing us through all that comes our way, both big and small.  

When we make the effort to find something to be grateful for, to express our gratitude, or to simply say a prayer of thanks in the quiet of our hearts, it helps us feel a greater sense of peace in who we are, as well as a greater sense of connection to our fellow human beings.  

And the thing is, when we feel at peace with who we are and a sense of connection to others, it makes us more able to listen to them rather than critique or defend, and it helps us be able to give them the benefit of the doubt rather than jump to conclusions.  When we are able to do those things, I think we are also better able to see that there is good in the world, and in us.