A winter Heart Learns to Give Thanks
Thankful for Thankful Thoughts
By midmorning, I felt like a pressure cooker about to explode.
Taxes needed to be finished and taken to the accountant. The phone had been relentless. One friend was in need, another was in the hospital, and a mother was hurting over an adult child who had made a mess not only of his own life, but now hers as well.
It had been a long winter for a humble painting contractor and his crew, caught in a difficult economy. Two children in college. Three mortgages to keep up with. The cost of seemingly everything climbing higher and higher.
There was a sick dog and veterinary bills. A child's knee that would not heal and a surgery that couldn't happen because the insurance had maxed out.
And then there was something that needed to be sold simply to help keep everyone afloat.
It was a sad day.
A heartbreak of sorts.
A sacrifice made with a heavy heart.
And yet, in the middle of it all, these words:
“I have refined you, but not as silver is refined.
Rather, I have refined you in the furnace.”
— Isaiah 48:10
Through it all, I find myself praising Him a little more—and perhaps a little deeper.
I lean in. I press closer. I draw nearer.
And I thank Him a little more.
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart
and lean not on your own understanding.”
— Proverbs 3:5–6
There are seasons when trusting God doesn't mean understanding what He is doing. It simply means continuing to place one foot in front of the other while keeping my heart turned toward Him.
I don't need to understand everything today.
I just need to trust the One who does.
And so, with a heavy winter heart, I began to think about the things for which I am thankful.
Walking the dog around the block with my daughter.
Scrubbing the floor beneath the stove and refrigerator.
Lying on the bed on a Saturday morning, watching a show with my daughter.
Notes from a son.
Heaping bowls of ham hock soup.
Dinners that last for hours.
Dessert and happy conversations with grown children.
Prayer before meals.
A dad and mom who call during the week simply to check in.
A friend who call on a Saturday afternoon just to say hello and share an encouraging word, a story, and a thought.
The smiles of fathers and sons.
Wind outside the windows.
Boots for the rain and mud.
Ping-pong around the kitchen table.
The painter's wink and smile.
Finding peace with His will.
Sorting through old books and remembering the stories they hold.
Weekends unplugged.
Cleaning closets.
Finding a friend's voice on the other end of the phone.
Prayers spoken together across the miles.
Popcorn on a Saturday evening.
The last page of a good book.
A handwritten note in the mail.
A husband who loves to cook.
A night around the fire.
Shared stories.
Funny stories accompanied by lots of laughter.
Preparing for Easter.
Three beautiful children in Sunday school class.
Baked bread and soup shared with family and friends around the table.
And somewhere in the middle of remembering all these little things, something happened.
I felt better.
Calmer.
Reassured.
Loved.
Cherished.
The circumstances hadn't changed.
But my focus had.
Perhaps gratitude doesn't always remove the heaviness. Sometimes it simply reminds us that the heaviness isn't the whole story.
There is still goodness.
There is still grace.
There is still God.
And sometimes, when a winter heart begins counting its blessings, it discovers that spring has already begun quietly growing underneath the soil.
Thankful for thankful thoughts.
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