I recently bought a journal that has prompts for morning and evening reflection. I have never been great at journaling or self-reflection, but convinced of its benefits, I figured prompts might make this practice a little easier.
Each morning, one of the questions asks: “What am I grateful for today?” Pretty basic, right? I should be able to come up with something. After all, I know I have much to be grateful for.
I’m grateful for my family. No, I used that one yesterday, I think to myself.
Errr … that my daughter is still asleep? I rack my brain some more.
I’m grateful for my home … grateful for my job … grateful for …
Eventually, I scribble something like, “I’m grateful for running water,” and close the book.
I’d like to blame my wrestle with this question on the early hour – before my daughter (and my brain) are fully awake. Or maybe it’s because it’s a morning prompt rather than an evening one, when I’d have a whole day to draw from. But as I’ve continued this practice, I’ve realized how easily I overlook the small, hidden blessings while focusing only on the big, obvious ones.
There’s a story about a young man who journeyed West, hoping to strike it rich during the California gold rush. Enticed by tales of gold nuggets so large one could hardly carry them, he sold everything he owned and set out to find his fortune.
At first, he was full of energy and certainty that his fortune was just around the corner – but his enthusiasm faded when day after day he dipped his pan into the river and pulled out dull rocks instead of dazzling golden nuggets.
Discouraged and nearly broke, he was ready to quit when an old, weathered prospector noticed him and said, “That’s quite a pile of rocks you’ve gathered there, my boy.”
“There’s no gold here,” the young man replied bitterly. “I’m going home.”
The prospector walked over, picked up two rocks and struck them together. One of the rocks split open, revealing several flecks of gold sparkling in the sunlight.
But the young man wasn’t convinced. “I’m looking for nuggets like the ones in your pouch, not just tiny flecks,” he said, pointing to the bulging leather pouch at the prospector’s waist. The prospector then loosened the drawstring and held it open. “Take a look,” he said. The young man peered inside – and was stunned to see that the weight of the pouch was not from large nuggets but instead from the accumulation of hundreds of small flecks of gold.
“Son,” the prospector said, “It seems to me you are so busy looking for large nuggets that you’re missing filling your pouch with these precious flecks of gold. The patient accumulation of these little flecks has brought me great wealth.”
That story reminds me that gratitude isn’t just about life’s “nuggets” – the milestones, the grand gestures, the once-in-a-lifetime moments … the stuff. It’s about learning to see the flecks of gold hidden in the ordinary. I’m still learning, but the more I practice noticing them, the fuller my life becomes.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.
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