Chronicling gratitude, day by day

Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.

— Philippians 4:8 KJV I memorized this scripture as a kid. My mother paid me a dollar per Bible verse I learned then, and I must have exhausted the shorter ones like “Jesus wept” by the time I got to this one. Its length made it a heck of a bargain for her at $1.

I have observed in my older age that it, and all the verses she paid me to learn, were a bargain for me too, and not just because I could memorize them fast and make a buck. She knew that.

They were a good deal because they are stuck in my head forever. And while I wish some of the ways I understood and applied them were not as stuck, and I may spend the rest of my life unsticking them, I am so grateful for the verses themselves.

They are grafted into my DNA; I hear them in my deep heart’s core; they sustain and guide me. Remind me who I am. Why I am here. What my life is to be about—like Jesus—“my Father’s business.” And what that means.

This verse from Paul’s letter to the Philippians is just one of many daily examples.

Last week I was approaching the doldrums. Gazing into the abyss. And as Nietzche suggested, after long enough I could sense it starting to gaze into me. For a person with depression and anxiety, this sense is a red flag that signals danger. Get out of the water before you get pulled under. Before a riptide drags you out and drowns you. Before a shark eats you. Before a wave sweeps over you. Whatever. Just get out.

And like a lifeline flung from the hand of heaven to save me, there was the verse, with its specific instructions. Think on these things.

Like most spiritual/psychological instructions, I find these much easier said than done. But just as harnessing my creative free spirit into a schedule provides much-needed structure for work, approaching healthy spiritual habits as discipline brings light and life.

One of the things I did to practice thinking on true, honest, just, pure, lovely things of good report and virtue and praise was to start a gratitude journal. It sounds simple and ridiculous, but it has contributed enough improvement to my well-being in one week that I want to share it with readers.

I bought myself a pretty notebook at TJ Maxx for cheap. It is red and plain but made in Italy with a little gold stamp on the back that says so. There’s a tiny gold bird atop three books on the front, and on the bottom of each interior page in black. The paper is ivory and lined.

The first page says “Exercise Book” with a place for my name, and the last page is a multiplication table. Quaint. A little old-feeling; schoolish; kinda classy. It is thin.

I am not sure how much any of this matters but I include it because the notebook makes me happy just looking at it, and if I could give one to each of my readers, I would. It invites me to write in it. Not like a computer, but something more personal and soft, with a pen I also like that was also not expensive. I found it in a drawer in my house. It has free-flowing black ink. I hate ballpoints.

The notebook and pen wait for me on my bedside table.

At night, when everyone else is tucked in, the dogs have been let out and in for the last time, the lights are off and doors locked, and my own hygiene and pajamas have happened, I crawl into bed with Mugsy the Boston terrier. Maybe I read. Put lotion on my hands and feet. Try to resist the temptation to check my phone one more time for texts, emails, breaking news. Sometimes I am successful.

The last thing I do is pick up my red notebook and pen. I write the date, then start a list. I have to write down a minimum of five things I am grateful for that day. Some days it is all I can do to get five. But other days—more often—I must limit myself to however many I can get on one page. Here are some of my entries.

5 August 2023

I am thankful for Sheila checking on me.

I am thankful for Hunter’s tender heart and loyalty.

I am thankful for Janna calling me.

I am thankful for the SSS and their support and wise advice.

I am thankful for my dogs and the joy they bring.

I am thankful for my children and how amazing and good they are.

I am thankful I could walk twice today.

I am thankful I could bake my sourdough bread.

6 August 2023

I am thankful for a cooler morning.

I am so thankful for my house.

I am thankful for the mercy shown me by the Methodists in Conway who I forgot I was supposed to speak to today.

7 August 2023

I am thankful the lightning damage to my house was not dangerous or more expensive.

I am thankful for my parents’ loving care for me and my kids.

I am thankful I could check trot lines with Harper and feel close to him.

8 August 2023

I am thankful for the good day of shopping with Adelaide and Stella.

I am thankful for good music and poetry and that Gracie shares that stuff with me.

I am thankful I could eat healthy and drink a lot of water today.

9 August 2023

I am thankful for a good night’s sleep.

I am thankful Cheryl called and we could talk.

I am thankful for fresh tomatoes and cucumbers.

I am thankful for dinner with Bernie.

I am thankful Brooklin is here. I list these entries to show how unsophisticated they are, and by extension, I am, in this exercise. I could say things about the positive things going on in the world, for there are many, and I am indeed thankful about that.

But for me, at least right now, the practice of thinking on good things is very basic. It is a pause at the end of the day to remember tangible, real, simple gifts of grace. Knowing that notebook is there with its empty page for me to fill before bed helps me look for things to be grateful for all day. And that is making a difference.