What Does Gratitude Look Like This Thanksgiving?

𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼,
This week always carries a strange weight, doesn’t it? Thanksgiving arrives with its table settings and recipes and expectations—and yet, for so many of us, the heart pulls up a chair too, carrying its own untold stories.
Maybe your heart is like mine—trying to hold both the ache and the gratitude in the same pair of trembling hands. Some years, we gather around a table full of people we love. Other years, we gather up pieces of ourselves and hand them back to Jesus, whispering, “Lord, this is all I have today.”
And still—somehow—God sits with us in all of it.
I keep thinking how gratitude doesn’t ask us to pretend the hard parts away. It just invites us to notice the little mercies tucked inside the mess… the way a warm kitchen smells like belonging, the way someone’s laugh cracks open a room of heavy air, the way God keeps showing up even when life didn’t go the way we scripted.
Maybe this year feels softer. Maybe it feels more like a bruise. Maybe you’re missing someone, or something, or the version of life you thought you’d be living by now. I get that. I’ve lived that. And I want you to hear me: You’re not behind. You’re becoming.
Even here—right here—God is doing what only He can do: taking the shattered, the scattered, and the overlooked pieces… and turning them into something that can hold beauty again.
So this Thanksgiving, whether your table is full or your heart feels half-empty, know this:
Gratitude isn’t the denial of pain.
It’s the declaration that God is still good, even here.
I’m giving thanks for you today—your tender courage, your honest stories, your way of showing up in a world that feels heavy. Thank you for being here, for being part of this little corner of hope with me.
May the God who gathers sparrows and broken hearts gather you gently this week.
𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆,
𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓