Yes! I struggle with traditional "gratitude".....it sounds so contrived and false to my ears and my heart.
But! Today I GET to use my left arm and leg while my Mother-in-law grapples with her own immovable limbs after a stroke took them from her.
Today I GET to go to the nursing home where I volunteer and do something I love while my husband's ashes languish in their urn with his unfinished and unfulfilled dreams.........🙏
And you just nailed the whole point. “Get to” isn’t forced cheerfulness. It’s reality with oxygen in it.
You’re not pretending your mother-in-law’s stroke is okay. You’re naming what is still available to you, right now, while loving her in what’s been taken. That’s not contrived. That’s honest. That’s strength.
And that line about your husband’s ashes, whew. That’s love and grief in one sentence. Those dreams don’t get to be completed by him, and that is heartbreak. But you, right now, still have breath and limbs and choice, and you’re using them in a way that matters. Volunteering. Showing up. Loving. That counts.
If you want a tiny practice for the days it feels heavy: before you walk into the nursing home, do one round of 4-4-6 and say, “I get to bring presence.” Not happiness. Presence.
Thank you for sharing this. You’re the real thing.
I get to clean my house. I get to enjoy the sun streaming in through our large windows (despite the furnace having kicked off while we slept). I get to listen to NPR with a warm cat on my lap. I could go on, but you get the idea. Thanks for the reminder!
Yes! I struggle with traditional "gratitude".....it sounds so contrived and false to my ears and my heart.
But! Today I GET to use my left arm and leg while my Mother-in-law grapples with her own immovable limbs after a stroke took them from her.
Today I GET to go to the nursing home where I volunteer and do something I love while my husband's ashes languish in their urn with his unfinished and unfulfilled dreams.........🙏
And you just nailed the whole point. “Get to” isn’t forced cheerfulness. It’s reality with oxygen in it.
You’re not pretending your mother-in-law’s stroke is okay. You’re naming what is still available to you, right now, while loving her in what’s been taken. That’s not contrived. That’s honest. That’s strength.
And that line about your husband’s ashes, whew. That’s love and grief in one sentence. Those dreams don’t get to be completed by him, and that is heartbreak. But you, right now, still have breath and limbs and choice, and you’re using them in a way that matters. Volunteering. Showing up. Loving. That counts.
If you want a tiny practice for the days it feels heavy: before you walk into the nursing home, do one round of 4-4-6 and say, “I get to bring presence.” Not happiness. Presence.
Thank you for sharing this. You’re the real thing.
Monica, your honest, inciteful and rapid replies never cease to amaze me! Thank you!
Most Welcome. It’s my jam.
Thank you… I needed that and everything shifted instantly! I get to comment!
I get to clean my house. I get to enjoy the sun streaming in through our large windows (despite the furnace having kicked off while we slept). I get to listen to NPR with a warm cat on my lap. I could go on, but you get the idea. Thanks for the reminder!