By Ruth Jack
“Gratitude bestows reverence.....changing forever how we experience life and the world.”
Staring at the dark ceiling again, I cringe at the uneven snore escaping from the relaxed form next to me. My young children describe the sound as a bear, I just call it unbearable. I have studied sleep cycles. I know how crucial sleep is. I know first hand the effects of its deprivation. Knowing I’m missing its protective, healing, and consolidating benefits doesn’t help. Nudging the peaceful partner next to me doesn’t help. Shaking him doesn’t even help. Where did he get this superhuman sleeping power from, and why can’t I have it too? None of these thoughts help either. Frustration, deep fatigue, desperation, and pity all begin to take root inside of me. “Please, please just let me sleep,” I cry.
A soft and persistent thought brushes my mind, “Try gratitude.” Irritated, I brush it aside like swiping at silky cobwebs. I don’t want to be grateful right now. I want to sleep. The thought persists, “Just try it. Think of things you are grateful for, really and truly grateful for, right now, in this moment.” The concept of gratitude is not new to me, but I am learning that, like an iceberg, it is a virtue with much more to it than meets the casual observer’s eye. I have used a gratitude journal for years, actively looked for things in my life to be grateful for, and even taught my children to share things they were grateful for on the drive to school each morning. But, this feels different. This is not the usual list of things in my life I appreciate, this is looking specifically for blessings within the trial. And, even though one sleepless night may not seem like much of a trial, months and years are.
I take a deep breath and consider. I am grateful for…crickets. No, I don’t mean actual crickets. Although, I do enjoy the sound of crickets. Sound! Yes, that’s it! I am grateful I have ears that work so well and allow me to hear the sweet sound of a giggle bubbling out from a baby. I am grateful I can hear the sweet harmonies of my children singing. I begin to build momentum and I purposely slow my breathing and my list, welcoming and stretching out each pause to feel the depth of peace and awe that come with each new pronouncement. I can hear whispered, “I love you’s,” and distant thunder and nostalgic train whistles.
“Thank you ears. You work so well and serve me everyday.”
I am thankful for the wonderful person asleep next to me, for companionship and loyalty, comfort and strength. He is alive. His snoring proves it. He is healthy. How many people yearn for and are denied this blessing?
I feel the weight of my head cushioned by a soft pillow, and my body, whole and healthy, nestled between two silky-smooth sheets inside of a temperature-controlled room, never too hot, nor too cold. My mind calms even more and unexpectedly wanders to my ancestors, one in particular, who crossed the plains with an ill-fated handcart company and nearly froze and starved to death. When her rescuers arrived, she had lost all of her hair at age twenty-one, could barely walk, and had no immediate family to lean on for support. In spite of her hardships, Emma Summers was known her entire life for a cheerful disposition and quick laughter. My heart fills with powerful, pure gratitude for this second-great grandmother of mine and her sacrifices and legacy. I remember a quote from Thorton Wilder (n.d.), “The highest tribute to the dead is not grief but gratitude.” Knowing she spent many nights sleeping on top of a frozen tent because she and her company lacked the strength to set it up for the night, my ceiling takes on new meaning for me, and these moments of reflection take on a quiet, holy quality. Somehow, the swelling of my heart drowns out the snoring next to me, and I sleep through the rest of the night. A gradual, nearly imperceptible change happens over the next weeks and months as I continue this nightly gratitude practice. Eventually, more often than not, I begin to sleep all night. Not a big deal for many, but for me, it is a miracle.
Perhaps I met this deeper side of gratitude during the dark hours of the night because I had spent much of the last twenty-five years awake with nursing babies, sick toddlers, night-terrorized preschoolers, and in-at-all-hours teenagers. Too bad gratitude hadn’t revealed so much of herself before. Or, perhaps it was I who needed these experiences and humility to see her there waiting for me, like a patient, wise friend, ready to provide support and relief and perspective.
Gratitude has become my reliable companion. Not only to help lull me back to sleep when startled awake, but to transform time spent awake into sacred moments. For example, lying next to my trembling seven-year-old who stumbles into my room after a bad dream. Gratitude orchestrates tenderness and love so deep it almost hurts as my heart expands to hold it. Caressing his sweet face and singing softly to dispel the darkness in his jumbled mind, I am filled with joy and peace. I feel so thankful to have this moment with him in his hour of fear and highest vulnerability and to show him what love and devotion means. Having six children, I have done this a hundred times before, but before, it was an act of endurance, going through the motions to comfort, hoping the dreams or illness or bloody nose or whatever else would resolve quickly so I could just get some sleep. Gratitude shows me a new perspective. How is it that I am so blessed to be his mother and the one he turns to for comfort and soothing? Is there anything more exquisite and pure than to do for someone what they cannot do for themselves?
The lessons spill over into my waking hours as well. It becomes more than jotting down a few lines in a journal before going to bed. It becomes a way of seeing the world, like a pair of specialized glasses, bringing true priorities into focus, enhancing the smallest of miracles. It is finding value and appreciation in difficult emotions and challenges that threaten to wash away peace. Gratitude is there, not as a shield, but as an open doorway creating a safe place for all aspects of life to be. The hard is still hard, but there is a deeper meaning to it now.
Finding gratitude in trials, though a new practice for me, has been studied extensively. One study of war veterans struggling with suicidal thoughts found a correlation between increased gratitude and improved well-being (Kumar et al., 2024). Higher levels of gratitude are associated with lower anxiety after traumatic experiences (Senger & Gallagher, 2024). Gratitude was found to be a substantial factor in resilience and overall well-being of spinal cord injury patients (Wade et al., 2023). Srivastava & Ghosh (2023) conducted a gratitude online intervention study during the coronavirus pandemic and subsequent lockdown in India and showed that after one intervention, depression and anxiety decreased while happiness and well-being increased. Following a second online gratitude exercise, levels of mental health increased even more.
These experiences are much more serious and invasive than my sleepless nights. I wondered, could I personally practice gratitude during a more difficult circumstance? Recently, one of my daughters was involved in a car accident that could have been fatal to many, and yet she escaped with minor scratches. Of course, the gratitude that she was safe came very easily, but what about the mental trauma she suffered as a result? Already prone to anxiety, she began having panic attacks at night and increased anxiety and depression. It was hard for her to work, study, or even be around people. My heart ached for her. I reached for the hand of my new friend, gratitude, and found that she was already there, eager to show me how this experience was orchestrating some life changes for my daughter who decided to seek professional counseling and learn some tools to help her navigate anxiety, something she probably wouldn’t have done at this stage of life. I saw my daughter’s faith and dependence on a higher power grow, and her willingness to submit to raw and hard emotions; feeling them, processing them, allowing them to be a part of her. She is transforming. Hard? Yes! That is the beauty of gratitude. It doesn’t shy away from the hard or even soften it, it welcomes the hard and softens us, while also giving strength to be able to see the value of all circumstances.
Brene Brown is an advocate for approaching life in a similar way with a strong back, soft front, and wild heart in her book, Braving the Wilderness (2017). Reading Brown’s book, the idea of belonging to myself and accepting all parts of me and my life with grace is inspiring. Feeling comfortable in my own skin is something I have longed for, and though my journey is far from over, my friend, gratitude, once again opens the door. Seeing beauty in all of life means seeing beauty in all of me, and appreciating the parts I used to hide. Gratitude not only gives me permission to be human, but to enjoy it, laugh at it, and cry with it, all the while keeping the broader perspective that it’s temporary and meant to be cherished.
“Love of God is pure when joy and suffering inspire an equal degree of gratitude.”
References
Brown, B. (2017). Braving the wilderness: The quest for true belonging and the courage to stand alone. Random House.
Kumar, S. A., Taverna, E., Borowski, S., Smith, B. N., & Vogt, D. (2024). From posttraumatic stress symptoms to suicidal ideation among military veterans: Pathways founded on meaning in life and gratitude. Journal of Traumatic Stress, 37(4), 594–605. https://doi.org/10.1002/jts.23033
Milton, J. (2008). Paradise Lost (Original work published 1667).
Senger, A. R., & Gallagher, M. W. (2024). The unique effects of hope and gratitude on psychological distress and well-being in trauma-exposed Hispanic/Latino adults. Psychological Trauma: Theory, Research, Practice, and Policy, 16(3), 488–495. https://doi.org/10.1037/tra0001550
Srivastava, M., & Ghosh, A. (2023). Online gratitude interventions during COVID-19 pandemic on youth: Randomized trial. Journal of Evidence-Based Social Work, 20(2), 272–298. https://doi.org/10.1080/26408066.2022.2157691
Wade, L., Elliott, T. R., Schlegel, R. J., Williamson, M. L. C., Yoon, M., & Spooner, M. (2023). Resilience and well-being among persons with spinal cord injury/disorders. Rehabilitation Psychology, 68(3), 324–337. https://doi.org/10.1037/rep0000509
Weil, S. (1952). Gravity and grace (A. Wills, Trans.). Routledge & Kegan Paul. (Original work published 1947).
Wilder, T. (n.d.). AZQuotes.com. Retrieved October 27, 2024, from AZQuotes.com Web site: https://www.azquotes.com/author/15650-Thornton_Wilder