10 Terrible Things to Give Thanks For
It’s tempting to view gratitude only through the filter of what’s pleasant, as if only comfort and ease are worth appreciating.
Today, here are a few surprising places you might look for unexpected abundance; some terrible things to be thankful for…
GRIEF.
This is the necessary tax on loving people and being loved by them. The magnitude of our mourning is proportionate to the depth of connection we had with someone who is now gone. The tears that come are a tangible tribute so welcome them. Even as you grieve the absence of someone you loved, be grateful for their past presence. It is a blessing to have had someone worth missing.
SADNESS.
Suffering is a reminder that your heart, though badly broken, is still working. Your capacity to be wounded is a sign that you care deeply, and as treacherous as this life can be, this is no small feat. There is something cathartic about the crying, the way it cleans house of all that is unimportant, so fully feel everything and be grateful that you are truly alive.
ADVERSITY.
They say that the roots of a tree grow deeper in the winter, when provisions are not as plentiful, that its stability actually grows with this deeper reaching into the ground. There are lessons we learn when we go through difficulty that we could never learn any other way, riches that only come in the scalding crucible of hardship. Even in the struggle of these moments, you are being renovated, so be grateful.
FEAR.
Sometimes the terrors aren’t just tricks our minds play on us, not just distorted shadows. Sometimes the monsters are real and close. Fear is not a welcome presence, and we shouldn’t keep it around forever, but it can be the impetus for us to find the reservoirs of courage we didn’t realize we had and to discover our outside voices.
CHANGED PLANS.
Humility comes when we are surprised by life, when the path we thought we would be walking turns out not to be the one we’re on. Though this can come with bitterness, fear, and uncertainty, try to see your unexpected road as a reminder of your smallness and vulnerability, a chance to jettison the need to control life and simply step into it.
REGRET.
So you blew it. Welcome to the club. Whatever bad decision you’ve made, or however you feel like you screwed up or dropped the ball, take heart because your story’s not over. Now you get to go forward; to be wiser, kinder, more gentle, more grateful. Now, you get to course-correct and craft something redemptive out of the glorious mess you’ve made. Don’t linger in regret, just let it move you.
DIFFICULT DECISIONS.
If you have a tough choice to make right now, celebrate this. You have something many people don’t have: you have options. As stressful and as fraught with anxiety as these days may be, they come with the promise that something new is coming. Weigh carefully, choose with as much wisdom as you can, and be grateful for the presence of possibility.
LONELINESS.
Times of chosen or forced solitude, as heartbreaking as they are, can also be an incredible gift. When we are alone, we learn to mine the strength we didn’t realize we had, we discover gifts we may never have unearthed, and we find a new peace with the person we see in the mirror. Let that lonely space teach you all it can right now about what you’re made of.
FAILURE.
Sometimes dreams die. Sometimes, despite our best intentions, our deepest convictions, and greatest efforts, there are moments when we are faced with the reality that a relationship, business venture, or creative endeavor has reached its logical conclusion. But these aren’t stops, merely purposeful pauses until we find a new dream.
OUTRAGE.
The holy discontent in your spirit at the injustice around you is a gift. It is your soul’s alarm at what seems so not right about the world; the belief that there is better and more loving and more healing work to be done, and that you are fully equipped to do it. Let your anger remind you that good people still walk the planet—and that you are one of them.
BONUS: AGING.
There’s nothing all that appealing about facing our physical attrition; about our bodies breaking down, our aches and pains increasing, and our maladies multiplying—not to mention the shifts and creases and follicular migrations we see in the mirror. But, these can all be trophies of time; reminders that we’ve been fortunate to be here this long and made our mark, even as the marks have been made on us.
Friend, these days may be filled with a whole lot that seems unworthy of gratitude, but try anyway.
Yes, this current season might be overwhelming, but it is also the stinking manure out of which beautiful things will grow, so keep going.
For all you see and feel and experience today (even the stuff that seems and even is quite terrible), give thanks.
What terrible things have you found gratitude for? Let me know in the comments.
I am thankful that I have what most billionaires will never have.
I have enough.
The Unexpected Gift of Loss
Loss is often experienced first as a sharp rupture—the sudden absence of what we once counted on, cherished, or believed would last. It can feel like the world has tilted, as though something foundational has slipped away. And yet, within that disorientation lies a paradoxical truth: loss, painful as it is, can also be a powerful source of clarity, resilience, and renewal.
At its core, loss reminds us of what matters. When something or someone disappears from our daily lives, we confront the depth of our attachment and the meaning that attachment held. Instead of taking moments, relationships, or opportunities for granted, loss sharpens our awareness. It teaches us to pay attention—to savor laughter, to express gratitude more often, to invest more fully in the present moment. In that way, loss is not merely an ending but also a teacher.
Loss also humbles us into growth. It strips away illusions of control and challenges the stories we tell ourselves about permanence. But in doing so, it creates space for transformation. People discover strengths they didn’t know they had: the ability to endure, to adapt, to rebuild. The resilience forged in the aftermath of loss often becomes a quiet wisdom that guides us later in life. It rearranges our priorities, widens our empathy, and deepens our capacity to understand the struggles of others.
Perhaps most importantly, loss can illuminate new beginnings. When familiar structures fall away, new paths emerge—paths we may never have explored without being pushed out of our comfort zones. Careers shift, relationships deepen, new callings take shape. Even in grief, there can be a sense of renewal, as if life is gently teaching us that change, while painful, is also the engine of new possibility.
None of this diminishes the ache of losing something meaningful. But viewing loss as a source of insight and growth allows us to integrate it into the ongoing story of our lives, rather than letting it define us. In this light, loss becomes not just something to survive, but something that—through its unwelcome arrival—can help us see more clearly, live more honestly, and love more deeply.