Usually by this time of year I am readying my Advent wreath, finishing my month long gratitude journal, or simply basking in the glow of having all four of us together for a whole week. This year, I keep waiting for “the moment” but it hasn’t happened—yet. Thanksgiving is later in the calendar. The Christmas push is already on us. And my family togetherness is still two days away. We have been like four ships passing in the night for weeks!

Truthfully, I’ve been floating along on various waves for a while now. I have been known to say, sometimes we just have to by buoyed by others. When we aren’t in a place to fully participate or engage in the hard work of the faithful, it is okay to be carried by others—for a while. I still stand by that thought, but ever since Covid, I have felt my attachments weakening. Without my tribe of the faithful, I have become unmoored. Floating along is not the same as being carried. Floating does not have connection. There is no gravity to give it weight.

That ends today.

I yearn for the gravitational pull of community and commitment. It is time for me to reattach myself to those who have carried me. So I will, and I begin with gratitude. And then I will sing. And I will keep showing up at church with my fellow believers. And that tether will become stronger—not harder or more rigid—but supple and flexible enough to wrap around my heart and center me on the axes of Love of God and Love of Neighbor.

The gravity of gratitude is unfailing. When all else fails, start with a list. In the darkest moment or merely a day of gray, begin with one statement of gratitude. The amount of energy generated with a simple thank you is enormous. When our children are tiny we teach them to say please and thank you. As they grow we ask them to reflect on what they are thankful for. If we are lucky, we will receive unprompted thanks from time to time from them for food and shelter and gas and tuition. Even as they begin to leave home for long periods of time, we sense the gratitude behind the weekly calls and the signs of relief from parental intervention (wanted or unwanted).

Dear ones, as we draw closer to the table—or however you celebrate Thanksgiving—let gravity be your guide. Anchor yourself to thankfulness for small things like your favorite kind of cranberry sauce, or a good weather day so you can escape outside away from the fray, or airpods hidden by your hair, or the knowledge that you don’t have to be here again for 365 days. If this is not the holiday for you, be kind to yourself. If this holiday is for you, use the time to enlarge your heart and store up gratitude for a time when you will need it. Families are complicated. Life is hard. We can rely on the gravity of gratitude for our friends and fellow believers and the kindness of strangers to keep bitterness away.

Gratitude is simple. It can be trusted.

Love Y’all, Marla