grace given me

This past week, I experienced one of my favorite Thanksgivings ever. It was one of those days where everything simply felt right. We had amazing food, world-class San Diego weather, and a home filled with people who just make your heart happy. Several times throughout the day I found myself saying, “We are so blessed,” and “Who has it better than us?” As I soaked it in, I realized something: this Thanksgiving felt different because I am different. 

It wasn’t always easy for me to fully appreciate days like this—not because anything was lacking, but because I was looking through the wrong lens. My family has always created beautiful meals and extended generous hospitality. But for much of my life, I had taken things for granted. I let culture define what success, joy, and fulfillment were supposed to look like. If my marriage didn’t resemble a Hallmark movie and a holiday didn’t look like a picture-perfect scene from Martha Stewart Living, I convinced myself something was wrong or missing. It was never the day or the people—it was the expectations I carried within me. Without realizing it, those unrealistic expectations shaped my heart more than I’d like to admit.

Somewhere along the way, I succumbed to a sense of entitlement. I never would have named it that. But as I strived and pushed and compared, I began expecting privilege. Favor. Ease. Beauty without sacrifice. Blessing without pruning. And because my heart wasn’t rooted in humility, anything that fell short of my expectations led to irritation, disappointment, and inevitably… grumbling.

The irony? I thought that grumbling would somehow change my predicament—that my frustration would pressure life (or God) into making things better. But both Scripture and science say otherwise. Studies show that repeated negative focus literally rewires the brain toward heightened stress and dissatisfaction, while consistent gratitude strengthens pathways for joy, resilience, and emotional health. Essentially, the brain believes what we tell it. Scripture said this long before neuroscience did.

“Do everything without grumbling or arguing… then you will shine among them like stars in the sky.” —Philippians 2:14–15

Yet grumbling had become my default posture. I wasn’t fully aware of it, but I felt it. Something in me was off. Eventually, I reached a point where I couldn’t ignore it anymore. By the grace of God, over the last few years something in me started to soften—not because I worked harder to be happy (believe me, I tried all kinds of self-help)—but because I finally surrendered. Fully. Completely. In every area. And when I made room for God to work, he did what he always does: He pruned, shaped, convicted, healed, and restored. 

“Every branch that bears fruit He prunes, that it may bear more fruit.” —John 15:2

He redeemed parts of my life I thought were too far gone. He restored my marriage. He drew me closer to family and friends. He breathed hope into places I was sure were hopeless. He brought provision, blessing, and prosperity that I knew I could never manufacture on my own. And in witnessing his faithfulness—tangible, visible, undeniable—something inside me began to shift. My entitlement dissolved. And gratitude took root in its place.

Grateful for all of it.
Grateful for the pruning.
Grateful for the healing.
Grateful for answered prayers.
Grateful for what’s still ahead.

Life is not perfect. It never will be. But I am deeply grateful that God rewired my thinking and renewed my mind. Science tells us that gratitude strengthens neural pathways that help us experience joy, peace, and emotional well-being. Scripture affirms it: “Be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” –Romans 12:2. God made our minds able to heal and re-pattern as we turn our focus toward his goodness.

I didn’t realize entitlement was a quiet disease I had been carrying—subtle, socially acceptable, even encouraged. But it robbed me of joy, peace, and presence. Gratefulness was the remedy I didn’t know I needed. James 1:17 says, “Every good and perfect gift is from above.” And this Thanksgiving, perhaps more than ever, made me recognize that sweet gift. God has been good to me. Faithful to me. Patient with me. And because of that, my posture has shifted from expecting to receiving, from demanding to appreciating—from entitlement to gratefulness. And I don’t ever want to go back.

Lord, thank you for liberating me. I didn’t realize I was being held captive by harmful thoughts I had unknowingly cultivated. But you are the great Liberator. Thank you for all you have given me—every blessing, every pruning, every answered prayer. Thank you for giving me a heart that believes all things, hopes all things, and trusts your plans for my life. Keep me grateful. Keep me surrendered. Keep me free. Amen.