Gratitude is the bedrock of my life. I practice it every day, even on the days I wake up feeling like life is over and there’s no point in continuing. It is the practice I return to when all else fails, when even prayers won’t come. The act of saying “thank you”, sometimes many times, is the safety net that keeps me anchored to the good that’s always there.

I need this practice even more now, when life is poised to change again. I need to move beyond just saying thank you and into the realm of extreme gratitude. This, regardless of what may come, will keep me rooted in what is, what is vital and lasting and visible no matter how the outside seems. It will ensure there is always joy.

In three weeks, Husband will be unemployed, for good. While we have dreamed of, and will celebrate, this freedom from a job he hates, the reality is also scary. Our income, which is already below the level of “living comfortably”, will be reduced by more than half. While I’m good at making do with very little, I know this will be a challenge.

It also means giving up our dreams of moving, at least for the forseeable future. But I am okay with that. I have to be. If I gave in to the alternative, I would fall into despair, and I can’t afford to let that happen. There is too much at stake.

I create ways to make living here more bearable. I can always improve SOMETHING. To that end, I’ve re-done the drainage so the yard no longer floods. I’ve gotten some half-price annuals and put them in for added color. I painted some flowerpots with glow in the dark paint; and I will fill them with flowers and line one side of our “driveway” with them, for a splash of nighttime light. The flowers will also draw the butterflies, which is one more thing to be grateful for. Anything that brings gratitude is a plus.

I make my own gratitude. This is ALWAYS a choice. Even when we are without water (as we were this weekend), even when we’re on the third week of no trash pickup (an incentive to start composting!), even when we are suddenly overrun with rats (the babies are really cute!), I can STILL say thank you. It may take some effort, and my thank yous may be sprinkled with cursing, but I keep saying it. I make myself say it. The only way this practice will become instinctive is if I keep saying it, especially on the days I don’t want to.

I am weaving my own net. The main strands in my net are gratitude and faith. Every day I look around and say thank you for what we have. The bleaker the day seems, the deeper I have to dig. But I can always find something. That truth will never change.