Grief and Gratitude

Driving down the road on a rainy Seattle day, wiped out from caregiving, I felt like I was drowning in grief. Rain splashed across the windshield; the world seemed as dark and as dreary as I felt. Tears rolled down my cheeks.  

Stress and exhaustion had accumulated from caring for three seriously ill and dying loved ones in-home and several more family members out-of-home, all while working as a hospice nurse and parenting four school-age children. I was just so tired  And sad.  

Several tear-gulps later, still stuck in the car and determined not to lose it any more than I already had, I clicked on the radio, hoping for soothing music. Instead, Catholic radio started jabbering. I sighed, not really ready for a bunch of faith talk. Just as I was about to change the channel, the host answered a call from an older woman with an Irish accent. She sounded like my grandma, my mom’s mom, so I hung around, listening. 

The topic was gratitude. And the caller turned out to be a novice expert. 

She had me right off the bat with her name, Eileen. My finger popped off the dial and I started listening. It seemed like the still soft voice of the Holy Spirit. I thought: what are the chances that Eileen is talking to Eileen? Right now, today? In the midst of my super bad, really rough day? A pretty good chance, I guessed. I gave her my attention. 

Eileen, who must have been at least 80 by the sound of her voice, spoke in her lyrical accent: 

“I like to call myself an apostle of gratitude. You see, there is so little of it, and we need so much. I try to do my part. I’m not too well these days, but whenever I go to the bank, grocery store, or anywhere really, the teller or clerk always asks, “How are you?” And I always respond. “I’m grateful.” Then, sure as you know, they’re curious. They’ll follow up with: “Why are you grateful? Did something good happen today.” And I say, “It did. It happens every day. I’m grateful to be alive. I’m grateful for God and for my family. I’m grateful for you helping me. I’m always grateful.” 

The conversation went on, with other callers and other topics. But in the background, Eileen, the apostle of gratitude, had me transfixed. 

I rewound and replayed the conversation in my head, knowing it was a gift. If she, eighty years old and ill, was able to be grateful, why couldn’t I? Was gratitude limited to something good happening, or was it more than that? Could it be a choice, made in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health? Might gratitude be a way of life, irrespective of circumstance? Could it be healing? Even in grief?

I had so much to be grateful for. And yet. The building exhaustion, weight of caregiving, the sheer busyness of everyday life was sapping my strength, leaving me fraught with tension, anxiety, and angst. Most days, I had anything but an attitude of gratitude.

Could I change that? If so, how?

I prayed, “Lord, help me to be grateful and to feel grateful, even when I'm sad and overwhelmed. Help me to give thanks, anyway.” A small whisper began, within. I spoke aloud, slowly: “I am grateful, I am grateful, I am (trying so hard to be) grateful.”  

When I got home, I searched for the definition of gratitude. It is: The readiness to show appreciation for and to return kindness.  I could do that, I thought. I could show appreciation and return kindness. Then I searched scripture for thanksgiving. Psalm 136:1 came up: “Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good. His love endures forever.” He is good. And His love endures forever. Even in grief and sorrow, the enduring love of a good God is something I could be thankful for. 

Since that “conversation” with the other Eileen, I’ve been working on incorporating gratitude into my daily life. It’s harder than it sounds, especially if one is feeling, as I frequently am, crabby. 

When one is not just crabby, but grieving intensely, feeling thankful can feel impossible.  Was Mary grateful right after her son died?  She couldn't have been.  Did she receive comfort and know with all her heart that God is good, and His love endures forever?  She did, always. But she was still devastated. Would she have shown appreciation for the kindness of John, Mary Madelyn, and Martha, who stood with her at the foot of the cross, never abandoning her, or Jesus? She would have.

But the very idea of being expected to feel grateful can hurt.  For example, when people say, "You should be grateful.  You can still have another child," or "You should be grateful, you had a lot of good years together, " they devalue the magnitude of your loss and undermine the validity of your grief. Though not intended to be unkind, they are.  Of course you are thankful for the memories and for the time together.  But having someone say "you should be grateful," rather than, "I'm sorry for your loss," is tone deaf, at best. 

Can we be thankful during intense loss?  Should we even try?  If you can't right now, if it feels like too much, that's ok. I've been there.  No one should be guilted into gratitude. But if the other Eileen's comments speak to you in the quiet of your heart, perhaps gratitude is a path forward for you, as it has been for me.  

Gratitude during grief does not involve being grateful for loss.  Rather, it focuses on noticing small blessings like a child's smile or a snow-capped mountain and choosing to be thankful.  Research on gratitude demonstrates that remembering  the good in each day rewires one's brain towards wellness.  

To be incorporated into daily life, gratitude can’t only be an attitude. It must also be a habit. We are creatures of habit, after all, and our neurobiology is wired to keep synapsing down the same old brain pathways we’ve been traveling for a long, long time. Each of us, over a lifetime, has developed unhealthy neural pathways, mind-habits which are destructive to our health and wellbeing. A new neural pathway, aka, a new habit, must be intentional and it must be practiced.

My example on neural pathways is that they are like the old dirt roads I travelled on when I worked as a nurse in Cameroon, West Africa. During the rainy season, those roads turned to mush, and our jeep (aka, as Jung says, our “auto”) would spin its wheels, becoming cratered and stuck in the mud. It was tough, if not impossible, to get out. We needed every tool we had, including sandbags, shovels, boards, and each other.

I think most of us travel down thought roads every day where we get stuck, mired in unhealthy parts of our past. Again and again, our thoughts drive down the roads to resentment, anger, guilt, and regret. The tires of our “autos” drive to and from in the same old ruts, on the same old bad roads, bumping along, repeating the narrative stories of who said what and why that makes us mad or sad. Often, the “who said what” is us, and the road we are traveling on is the road to self-recrimination, also not a good place to be, especially in grief. 

So, how to escape those unhealthy thought-roads and hop back on the road to thankfulness, wellness, and healing?

My advice is to imagine setting up a “No Through Street” or “Dead End” sign, with barriers leading to the unhealthy thought patterns/neural pathways. Try to avoid those “muddy roads” and head instead to the High-way or the Free-way, to prayer and well-thinking. 

And, if you do blast through the bad-road-thought-barriers, which we all do sometimes, then, bring within your “auto/self” the tools you need to extricate yourself. Think about what might represent the shovel you'll use to help you dig your "auto" out? Who is your co-pilot? (Hint: Inviting an omnipotent Co-Pilot to go along for the ride is a fab idea. Calling a good friend to admit you're grief-stuck and need help getting out of a rut is also a good plan.)  

Be sentient and aware of what you are thinking and which roads your thoughts are traveling down. Stop your auto when you find yourself in the wrong place. Reverse gears. Pray. "I give up, God. You take over."

I’ve found it helps if I repeat simple mantras while walking or driving. I repeat, “I am grateful. I am grateful” or “I am thankful, I am thankful.” This helps create a new neural pathway for gratitude and trust. When stressed about a loved one, or grieving, I repeat four syllable mantras, including, “All will be well,” "All will be well," and “Jesus, I trust, Jesus I trust.” If I keep those up, it drowns out the unhealthy mantras, re-focuses me on what is good, and redirects me towards wellness. 

Each morning and each evening, I try to remember to give thanks, both generally and specifically. In the evening, I pray prayers of thanksgiving for all that happened that day, including specific memories, such as my husband’s smile, or his happy whistle while doing dishes. Other moments of thanksgiving during a given day might a loving conversation with one of our children, a sunset or sunrise, the smell of banana bread, or the feel of tree bark on a walk. I try to repeat the mantra of the other Eileen, saying: 

“I am grateful. I'm grateful to be alive. I’m grateful for God and for my family." 

I add, "I am appreciative of the kindness shown to me today. And I'm thankful for God's enduring love.” 

Choosing to focus on being thankful does not mean negating my grief or forgetting those I love. Far from it.  Rather, it means widening my preview, looking beyond immediate sorrow to life itself, in all its tiny and magnificent glory.  

In the New Testament, St Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians, (5:18) says, “Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Jesus Christ for you.” All circumstances does not mean some circumstances, or every other circumstance that does not include grief or caregiving or family strife. All means all. And if “all means all,” then I am called to trust the Lord and be thankful for His enduring love, even when I’m sad and having a terrible, rotten day. The thanks God asks of us in all circumstances is gratitude, a readiness to show appreciation for and to return His kindness and the kindness of others. 

Having faith doesn’t mean, in some weird or twisted way, that we need to thank God for everything bad that’s happened in our life, or for the illness, injury, or death of a loved one. In St. Paul’s letter to the Romans, he says “All things work together for good for those who believe.” Again, “all things” does not mean “every other thing not including sorrow or anguish.” The God who worked the Triumph of the Cross into the Resurrection of Glory,  is working good into our lives every day. He is weaving grace into grief. 

God does not intend for bad to happen to us or to our world. He is in our boat and in our world, present to us during turbulent times.  He works amid our present sorrows, our grief, our exhaustion. He is “with us always, even unto the end of the world.” 

This Eileen is grateful, today, and every day.

And she’s trying, like the other Eileen, to be an apostle of gratitude. Today, if someone asks how I am, I’ll respond: “I am grateful. I am grateful to be alive. I’m grateful for God and for my family. I’m grateful to you for helping me. I’m always grateful.”