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o try and practice gratitude a little differently. My right arm? That guy deserves a standing ovation.

• He clocks in every day like he’s getting paid overtime.
• He ties my Adidas—double knots—with one hand.
• He carries all the groceries.
• Holds microphones.
• Writes. Creates.
• Let me tattoo him, and keeps on smiling.

And here’s the part that sneaks up on me: That five-year-old kid praying about screwdrivers? He had two working arms. And somehow… he was already better at gratitude than I am now.

I could stare at what doesn’t work. Or I can thank God—daily—for what does. Not in a “look how strong I am” kind of way. Not in a denial kind of way. Just in a choose what gets the spotlight way.

Gratitude doesn’t erase limitation. It decides where joy gets the most airtime.

Complaining Between Heated Buildings

Yesterday, I was walking to church, ironically for a prayer meeting. It was 9 degrees. Freezing! And I was complaining. Out loud. To my family.

As I walked about 200 yards from one heated building to another heated building to gather freely with friends in a country where that’s not just allowed—but protected.

I wasn’t wrong that it was cold. But I was wrong about the moment. I wasn’t suffering. I was standing inside the absence of suffering. And I almost missed it.

We All Have a Left Arm (and We All Have Screwdrivers)

We all have a “left arm.” Something that doesn’t work the way we want it to. Something that limits us. Something that’s easy to fixate on.

But we also all live surrounded by screwdrivers. Quiet mercies. Problems that aren’t present today. Pain that hasn’t knocked yet. Fear that used to shout but is currently silent.

Gratitude doesn’t need logic. It needs your attention.

An Invitation

I don’t want to wait for life to break before I say thank you. So I’m learning to thank God for what’s not happening. For the lack of pain. For the absence of fear. For the days that don’t demand courage. Even when it feels silly. Especially when it does.

So today, try this: Thank God for something you don’t have to deal with right now.

• A sprained ankle.
• A hangnail.
• A breakup.
• A deadline.
• A hospital room.
• A crisis.

And hey—God… thanks that when We’re hungry, it’s not a crisis. It’s temporary. It’s solvable. That’s something worth noticing.

Because maybe the point was never about getting it “right” after all. Maybe it was about a five-year-old who knew how to say thank you before asking for anything.

“Dear God, thank you for screwdrivers—so we don’t gotta pound screws.”

Amen.

We Tend to Get Grateful Late

If we’re honest, most of us don’t lead with the power of gratitude. We arrive there… eventually. Usually, it’s after pain shows up. After stress tightens the room. After something breaks, aches, or goes missing.

Sometimes it’s physical. Sometimes it’s circumstantial. And sometimes it’s relational—a breakup, a relationship ending, or that quiet, hollow moment when someone who mattered suddenly isn’t there anymore.

Those are the moments we pray hard. We bargain. We ask God to fix it, restore it, or rewind it. Then, if we’re lucky, time passes and healing happens. The ache loosens its grip.

But by then, gratitude often shows up late. Those reactive prayers matter, but young Derrick didn’t wait for trouble to practice gratitude. I’m currently trying to relearn that from a five-year-old who clearly had more wisdom than I do now.

Practicing the Power of Gratitude for What’s Not Happening

Lately, I’ve been attempting a different kind of thankfulness: gratitude for absence. Throughout the day, I’ll catch myself praying things like:

• “Thank you that I don’t have a hangnail right now.”
• “Thank you that I don’t have to try to blink my eyes—they just blink.”
• “Thank you that I’m not under a deadline today.”
• “Thank you that nothing hurts right now in a way that needs attention.”

None of these are dramatic. They don’t sound spiritual or deep. And that’s the point. This kind of gratitude trains us to notice normalcy—which, if we’re honest, is pretty sweet for most of us.

If you’ve got a car, a screen to read this on, and a Keurig humming on the counter, you’re probably living in the top 1–3% of the world’s definition of “normal.” With a little effort, we can fill an entire day with this kind of “silly” gratitude and accidentally put ourselves in a better mood.

The Ribeye Realization

These simple prayers aren’t just for a sunny Tuesday; they work in the storm, too. They don’t replace the big, heavy prayers; they sit beside them—like a great glass of Bordeaux with a medium-rare ribeye.

(Full disclosure: I don’t actually know what Bordeaux is. I Googled “best wine for steak.” I do, however, know that a ribeye screams for medium-rare.)

This is the quiet power of gratitude—finding peace even in ordinary, unnoticed moments.

Remember the Thing You Begged About

Think back to a time you were hurting. Maybe it was a severe ankle sprain. Every step was a limp. You were icing it and praying, “Please let this heal.”

Now—pause. If your ankle isn’t sprained right now, say thank you for that. Out loud.

“Peace doesn’t need fireworks to be worth noticing.”

Bask in it. Swim in the normalcy. Let the relief wash over you, even if it feels illogical or downright ridiculous.

Finding Joy in the Little Things (Even When Life is Hard)

A lot of times when we talk about gratitude, we focus on the big things: eyesight, hearing, or a body that works. But half of my body kinda ghosted me. My left side is paralyzed. That’s not a metaphor; it’s a way of life. Seriously—you do the YMCA, all I’ve got is LOL.

So, I’ve learned to practice gratitude differently. My right arm? That guy deserves a standing ovation.

• He ties my Adidas with one hand.
• He carries all the groceries and holds microphones.
• He writes, creates, and lets me tattoo him while he keeps on smiling.

That five-year-old kid praying about screwdrivers had two working arms, and somehow, he was already better at gratitude than I am now. I could stare at what doesn’t work, or I can thank God for what does.

Gratitude doesn’t erase limitation; it decides where joy gets the most airtime.

Complaining Between Heated Buildings

Yesterday, I was walking to a prayer meeting. It was 9 degrees—freezing! I was complaining out loud to my family as we walked 200 yards from one heated building to another to gather freely in a country where that is protected.

I wasn’t wrong that it was cold. But I was wrong about the moment. I wasn’t suffering; I was standing inside the absence of suffering. And I almost missed it.

We All Have a “Left Arm” and a “Screwdriver”

We all have something that doesn’t work the way we want it to. But we also live surrounded by “screwdrivers”—quiet mercies and problems that aren’t present today.

Gratitude doesn’t need logic; it needs your attention.

I don’t want to wait for life to break before I say thank you. I’m learning to thank God for:

• The lack of pain.
• The absence of fear.
• The days that don’t demand courage.

So today, try this: Thank God for something you don’t have to deal with right now. A crisis. A hospital room. A breakup.

Maybe the point was never about getting it “right.” Maybe it was about a five-year-old who knew how to say thank you before asking for a single thing.

“Dear God, thank you for screwdrivers—so we don’t gotta pound screws.”

Amen.