This is the text to a sermon I wrote for my UU church several years ago. Hope it speaks to you.

Think back to a time when you were sick. Not inconvenient sick, but knocked off your feet sick. You know what I’m talking about. You’re burning up with fever, you feel dizzy and nauseous, your body is in total rebellion. You’re a useless, sweaty mess, barely able to get out of bed to do what must be done. It’s a special kind of misery, isn’t it? You can’t keep track of time, it seems like the illness will never end.

But, eventually, it does.

That day when you first realize the horror show has ended … remember how that feels? You’re flooded with relief, so glad to be able to do simple things like eat and drink and walk. You remember how good it is to just feel normal. You probably find that little things that might ordinarily annoy you—the rusty door hinge, the unfinished glass of milk someone left out overnight—they just aren’t worth getting bothered by. You feel good, you can function like you’re meant to, and that’s what matters. A little buzz of contentment and thankfulness seems to be bubbling in your bloodstream, and it puts a spring in your step.

What you’re feeling is gratitude, and it’s a perspective thing—it can be a way of navigating the ups and downs of life, a way of seeing the world, that helps keep you from over-reacting to the hard stuff life inevitably throws at you.

How long, though, does that gratitude buzz usually last? How many days until the rusty hinge starts to bug you again? Two, maybe three?

Holding on to gratitude is the challenge, isn’t it?

Before I continue, let me offer a disclaimer on the subject of gratitude. I don’t know what you’re going through right now. I can’t know your pain. If you’re in something incredibly painful, something overwhelming, me telling you to find gratitude isn’t likely to be very helpful. It might even seem trite and annoying. I get that. If that’s you, then you need a far deeper remedy than a sermon, however well-intentioned. While I believe that cultivating gratitude might possibly serve you well—even in a crisis—this message is primarily intended to offer guidance for putting in perspective the relatively ordinary struggles of day-to-day life. End of disclaimer.

So, how do we hold on to gratitude?

It’s partly a matter of focus, isn’t it? If we’re constantly running over a long checklist of things that are not going our way—a list of grievances we have against others, wrongs done to us in the past, or even the hardship of current circumstances … well, it’s pretty hard to feel grateful. When we’re viewing life through the lens of what we perceive as the negative aspects of our lives, it’s difficult to see the positive. This dilemma of perception is known as “the focusing illusion.” Simply put, whatever you focus your thoughts on takes on a heightened importance. This is obvious, but we don’t always see how we’re blocking gratitude by focusing on the negative, because it’s just become the psychic air we’re breathing.

It might do us some good, then, to change our focus.

Here’s a quote from the book of Philippians:

“Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.”

Pretty good advice, I think.

This is not to say we should ignore or deny hard things we’ve gone through or are going through, but it is to suggest that we might do well to keep in the forefront of our thoughts and meditations a checklist of what is good. What is it that we have to thank God—or the universe—for today?

We’re breathing, for starters. We made it here. If we were fortunate enough to have come here under our own power, then we can be thankful our bodies are whole enough and well enough to have accomplished that. Sound minds are a thing to be grateful for. If we can see, hear, feel, smell, and taste the world around us, how very lucky we are. If there are people you love, how wonderful is that? People that love you back, wonderful again. A job. A home. A working car. Running water. Heat. Music we love. Hobbies we enjoy. Entertainment. Favorite foods. Even our spiritual practices.

I’m not telling you anything you don’t know. This is not new information. But we do forget to remember, don’t we? It’s so easy to get caught up in discontent, and uncertainty, and worries. But if we do this, it’s to our detriment. We’re often giving away the potential blessings this moment holds.

I asked you in my introduction to think of a time when you were very sick. Then to recall how it felt when you were freshly free of that sickness. As I said, you find yourself feeling glad to be able to do simple things, you find yourself remembering how good it is to just feel normal.

Why do we lose track of this little gem of truth? I think it’s partly because “just feeling normal” is generally not a goal we set for ourselves. We don’t recognize the wonderment of feeling normal because we’re too busy imagining something grander. We’re often looking to accomplish something or acquire something we believe will bring some deep sense of satisfaction. We have a future achievement in mind: a vacation, a pay raise, a home improvement, a new car or other expensive toy, getting a date with someone we like, seeing a concert … and we imagine that these things will make us happy. And maybe they will, but not likely for long. Because, very soon, we’ll be anticipating the next thing. Happiness is dependent upon the present circumstance being what we want it to be, and such states are fleeting, endangered by their very nature.

Truth is, a great deal of life is ordinary, mundane. One might say “normal” is mundane, but let’s try not to miss the blessing in it. Perhaps it’s not realistic to think we can be wildly happy taking out the garbage, but we can be grateful. If we’re taking out the garbage, it means we have food in our homes. If we’re taking out the garbage, it means we can walk. And, as we drop the containers at the curb, we might be running through our long list of things to be grateful for, which could get us whistling a happy tune, which might lead our neighbor to wonder if we’re losing our minds. And who doesn’t enjoy occasionally confusing the neighbor?

In that sickness-recovery scenario, you were also reminded that, in that moment, you likely didn’t let little things bother you. Another little gem, having to do with the power of what we choose to focus on. How much useless energy do we waste fuming over things that, when we really consider them, are merely trivia? Is that traffic jam really worth being enraged about? Or the slow line at the grocery store? Or the coffee stain? Life’s little irritants—what if we could smile at them, shake our heads, and think instead about someone we love, sing the words to an uplifting song, count a blessing or two? What if we made a practice of not letting little things bother us?

One thing I want to make clear that I’m not saying. I’m not saying, “pretend to be happy when you’re not.” This is a thing I’m sometimes guilty of, and I don’t recommend it. Far better to be authentic, and not hide behind a fake smile. After all, it is possible to be grateful even if you’re struggling to be happy. It’s possible, I would propose, to be grateful while you’re, in fact, sad. “Yes,” you might say to yourself, “I’m sad. Yes, I’m struggling. Nevertheless, I see a hundred reasons to be grateful, so many things, small and large, to count as very real blessings.”

This is not a fake it ‘til you make it proposition; it’s more a praise your way to a better day proposition. As the scripture-writer said, “…if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.”

Like you, I face struggles in my life: financial, relational, circumstantial, emotional, physical, spiritual. The question is not, do I struggle? The question is, how much power do I give the struggles to diminish or dissolve my gratitude?

That is a choice, one I must be intentional about. If I want to be habitually grateful, it will require resolve and a plan. Part of my plan is clearly recognizing the ways in which my life has been, and is, blessed. Here are some of them:

I had a great mom and dad. I know they loved me very much because they told me, all the time. They told me I was smart, talented, funny, and beautiful inside and out. They always encouraged and supported me. They made me feel safe, accepted, and approved of. Due, in large part, to them, I had a pretty happy childhood.

I have a son and a daughter in their 30s whom I love very much.

I have three granddaughters— ages 3, 8, and 13—whom I adore and get to enjoy regularly.

I’m in relatively good health.

I appreciate my job, and often even enjoy it. It suits me in many ways, and pays me enough to take care of my needs and many of my wants.

I have some talent as a writer and a guitar player.

Despite the winters, I like the region I live in.

Despite the many flaws of my country (don’t get me started), I’m thankful I live here.

I don’t experience daily pain.

All five of my senses are working (my common sense, on the other hand, is often on holiday).

My limbs are in decent working order for a man my age.

I could go on … but you get the idea. I’m an immensely blessed man. If I can’t muster some genuine gratitude as I go along, I’m a bigger fool than I imagine myself to be. When life’s dark storms erupt (and they most certainly will), I’ve already built a strong wall of defense against their assault—a wall made of many individual bricks of gratitude, held together with the cement of perspective.

To review:

Try not to underestimate the value of just feeling normal. Cultivate gratitude for the everyday wonder of normal.

Resist giving power to life’s little irritations. Don’t curse at the rusty hinge. You might even consider oiling it.

Try not to give too much psychic power to your struggles. Make it a point to focus on the ways your life is good rather than bad. Make a list of the blessings you have known and now know. Go over it often. Remember the effect of the focusing illusion: whatever you focus your thoughts on takes on a heightened importance.

I want to add three final things.

First, please consider taking a deep dive into that “free and responsible search for truth and meaning” referred to in the UU principles. Feeling connected to God, or The Divine, or a higher power—whatever you want to call “that which is larger than yourself”—has the potential to bring about profound change inside of you. It can elevate your sense of your place in the world, and help you transcend the burdens that otherwise threaten to distract, disarm, and delude you into thinking you aren’t worthy of blessing. Meditation and prayer can be powerful tools to keep you connected to your Source, however you may name it.

Second, fill your life with people, activities, hobbies and recreation that you enjoy. Take a walk in a place of great natural beauty, if that’s something that tickles your fancy. See your close friends more. Play cards. Go on a trip. Read books. Watch films. Go to museums. Run, hike, ride your bike. Take the time to invest in loving yourself and your life. Do things that fill your spirit with positive energy, things that exercise your gratitude muscle.

Finally, and most importantly I think, find ways to serve others. In small ways and large. Formally and informally. Within the church, and outside of it. Give away your time, talent, and treasure to help someone other than yourself. I guarantee that investing in the well-being of others will pay tremendous dividends, it will enhance your spiritual life. It will warm your heart. And, I believe, it will exponentially increase your sense of gratitude for both the ordinary life you live day-to-day, and the extraordinary life you’re capable of creating.

Amen. And may it be.