November has been a month full of gratitude Facebook posts for the last decade. I've not participated in the daily thanksgiving posts, because I know myself well enough to understand that would lose steam around day 3. Not because I don't have things to be thankful for, but because I don't have the follow-through for a 30 day commitment like that. Believe me, that's not something I'm proud of; just being transparent.
And in the name of transparency, I thought I'd give you a peek into what I've learned about gratitude in 2025.
Since the upheaval that was 2020, life has taken on a weirdness that wasn't present before. Social media has taken the place of real, human interaction. The forced social distancing has made me comfortable staying home and avoiding people. Wins seem further apart and losses abound. Every year, I think this will be the year things go back to normal. In January, I felt sure that 2025 would be my year. The year a publisher would want to get my books into readers' hands, the year I'd figure out how to solve some things I've been struggling with. Sadly, the reality is that 2025 has been a year packed with rejection from publishers and things just not working out the way I planned them.
Hopes have been let down harshly. Dreams have fallen apart. Prayers have seemingly been unanswered if not unheard altogether.
I can't be the only person coming into the Thanksgiving season feeling a like I'm lacking the bandwidth to be grateful. 2025 was hard, and I'm not going to sugarcoat it. But there is One Shining Light that beamed bright in the heavy darkness of this year. His name is Jesus.
I guess that's what 2025 has taught me. That even though the road is rough, even though different circumstances this year have played out in ways I never would have chosen, even though evidence of the brokenness of the world has appeared bigger this year than others, I haven't had to face the darkness in solitude. I'm not alone. No tear I've shed has gone unnoticed. (Ps. 56:8 "You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book?") No prayer I've prayed has hit the ceiling and fallen dead to the floor. (Ps. 116:1 "I love the Lord, because he has heard my voice and my pleas for mercy.") Not only does He hear my prayers, but the Holy Spirit prays for me when I don't have the ability to form words. (Romans 8:26 "Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groaning too deep for words.")
As I look back on this year, littered with wreckage of this broken world, I see hope amid the loss. Light shining through grief. I feel a peace that comforts in direct opposition to the pain and hurt and difficulty. Because through every hurdle, God's arms wrap tighter around me. His love floods my soul on the hardest days. He brings restoration to my brokenness.
Somehow this year, my gratitude feels more like an offering to God. A choice to focus on all that He is instead of my circumstances. A decision to look for Him in the hardships rather than letting the darkness swallow me whole. For some reason the decision to be grateful makes the gratitude feel more profound. More like worship.
I don't know what 2026 will bring. Maybe I don't want to know. Still, even though I have no wish for another year like 2025 I can be sure of one thing. And that is that God is already in 2026. He sees me, He hears me, and He cares. No matter how the year unfolds, I won't be taking a single step alone, and I will have so much to be grateful for, because the Light of Jesus shines the brightest in the dark patches life sometimes throws my way.
What are you grateful for? Share with me below for a chance to win an ebook copy of The Purple Nightgown!
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